


Bubbles

by TremblingHandsWriting



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: AFF, M/M, permanent_dreamer, repost
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-17
Updated: 2016-08-29
Packaged: 2018-04-21 05:00:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 37,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4815947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TremblingHandsWriting/pseuds/TremblingHandsWriting
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Once, Junmyeon read a story about a mermaid who turned into bubbles.</p>
<p>He didn't like it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Little Merman

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Loosely prompted by the last episode of EXO Showtime, Coldplay’s Fix You and Marc Anthony’s You Sang To Me.

Junmyeon remembered the first time he really read an English story book.

It was during the second year of grade school and he was one of the brightest kids in his class, being among the first ones to read a foreign language book in front of the class, which in a way, made him very proud of himself. He could remember that it was a Tuesday, because he always read his books a day after the newly transferred Chinese boy named Yixing and Yixing was chosen the reader for Mondays. Yixing wasn’t very good with Hangul when he first came so when the teacher handed him the Little Prince story book, he refused politely and asked if he could read an English story book instead.

At first, Junmyeon thought Yixing was very stupid because no one had ever asked to read the English story books himself unless when the teacher wanted them to. But then, when Yixing started to read the story about a family that lives in a giant shoe house and everyone was awed by how fluent he was, Junmyeon started to realise that instead of being very stupid, Yixing was very cool and Junmyeon wanted to look cool too. So without wasting his time, that day after Yixing’s first turn was finished, he pulled the Chinese boy’s hand and asked him if he had other English story books that Junmyeon could borrow. When Yixing smiled happily and nodded, Junmyeon shook his hand and they became friends.

The first book that Yixing lent him was ‘The Boy Who Cried Wolf’. Junmyeon knew this story because he had read it to the class in Hangul a few weeks ago, so when Yixing tried to explain about the story, he calmly put one hand up and said, “the boy got all his sheep eaten,” and asked for the next book when he visited Yixing’s house that evening. Yixing misheard the word ‘eaten’ and thought Junmyeon said ‘beaten’ and he would like to correct his new friend, but by then Junmyeon had already went to his bookshelf and pulled out a blue story book from the third bottom shelf.

“The Little Mermaid’,” he read the title slowly, trying to sound right in front of Yixing. He glanced up and saw Yixing smiling at him, saying “that’s right,” and he was so happy that he smiled until his eyes went smaller than they already were. Clutching the book to his chest, he walked over to Yixing’s bed and jumped on to sit next to Yixing. He was so excited to start reading the book when his eyes saw the cover and he frowned.

“There’s a girl on the cover. Is this a story about princesses?” he asked and Yixing nodded.

“Yes, but it is a very good story. It is sad at first, but then it gets better.” Junmyeon looked askance at Yixing’s explanation and he eyed the cover again. The girl was half human and half fish; her scales were blue and her hair was brown, and she had a pair of clam shells as her bra. Her face looked unnecessarily sad so Junmyeon pointed it out to Yixing and they laughed at how silly the character looked like on the cover. Yixing said it would be very funny if Junmyeon read the book while holding it up to the class, showing the somewhat uncensored picture to everyone and “let’s see how Ms. Han would react to the picture then,” and they laughed again.

Junmyeon took the book home that night to finish reading it before tomorrow. He would like Yixing to be with him though so that his friend could explain about the story better since he never read the Hangul version of it, but unfortunately Yixing had distant family members visiting and Junmyeon had been asked politely to leave. It was okay, he thought, since they still could meet up with each other before his reading turn tomorrow morning.

 

-

 

He continued reading after he had his dinner, ignoring his half-brother Sehun’s plea to play with him and evading his mother’s view so that he wouldn’t be given any cleaning tasks after the dinner. His step-father was working late so his mother was busy storing his part of the dinner into containers and Junmyeon was relieved to see that she wasn’t going to notice him gone, not for the next ten minutes anyways.

To be honest, he wasn’t very noticeable to his mother after Sehun was born, but it wasn’t anyone’s fault. He was smaller than the other kids and Sehun had been keeping his mother busy, and she had asked him to understand her more than twice.  Everyone had been asking him to understand his mother well since she remarried with the ahjussi who kept coming to their house since his mother got the job at seafood restaurant near his school a few years ago, and Junmyeon thought maybe it was really his task to do as asked. Though his mother was very happy when he showed her his perfect score since he entered grade school, and he liked to see her face lit up like that so he was determined to give her the same results every time the exams were done.

Okay, enough dreaming, Junmyeon. It’s time to read the book.

He put the book on top of his study desk and fished out for his dictionary from his schoolbag. Flipping the book open, he noticed small drawings of circles on every page, in the top corners of left and right. As he skipped a few pages to the back, the circles were sometimes drawn in the middle of the pages and Junmyeon frowned at the inconsistency.  It took him a while to realise that the circles were actually bubbles, floating from the corners into the middle of the page and then back again. With each page flipped, the bubbles moved and it was very hard to not to be distracted by the simple joy.

“Silly Yixing,” he said, laughingly, “I wouldn’t even want to write my name on a hard-covered book like this,” and having been satisfied playing with the bubbles, he started to read again seriously this time.

 

-

 

“You lied,” Junmyeon accused, frustrated. Yixing who had just arrived to the class was surprised seeing the smaller boy sprawled on his desk; his eyes looked red and tired. Yixing put down his bag and greeted a girl who was passing by their desks  _(Junmyeon asked if he wanted to sit next to him and Yixing couldn’t nod fast enough)_  before he turned his attention back to his friend.

“About what?”

“The book. You said it’s a happy ending,” he slammed the blue book onto the desk and thank God it was still early and other than the three other girls and them, no one else had reach the class yet.

“I said it gets better at the end, right?” Junmyeon grimaced, upset with his friend. He thought that it was because Yixing wasn’t telling the truth, so he ended up having high hopes for the story, which was a big mistake.

“She died,” he said after a minute of silence. Yixing who was drinking his usual morning milk in-a-box that his mother prepared for him shook his head, refused to acknowledge the fact that Junmyeon just repeated to him.

“She didn’t die – she disappeared.”

“She was mute, unable to tell the prince that she loved him and then turned into bubbles and became nothing, which is pretty similar to dying.”

“Yes, she disappeared, but she didn’t die. The story said mermaids don’t have souls, so they cannot die and go to heaven or hell.”

“Yixing! That’s even worse!”

“Junmyeon, it’s just a story!” Yixing finally let out his true thought, mostly because his limited Hangul vocabulary, the other was because Junmyeon was being too immersed in the story that he lent him. Ruffling his own hair, Junmyeon grunted and buried his face into his arms. Yixing chuckled when Junmyeon slid the book away from him and towards his friend. He took the book from Junmyeon and placed it under his desk, greeted another boy who sat in the desk in front of them before he jumped onto his own desk and pulled his schoolbag onto his lap.

“I don’t want to read that book today.” Junmyeon sulked. Yixing laughed heartily and Junmyeon became even more annoyed.

“I knew you would say that. When my cousin borrowed the book, he didn’t speak to me for almost a month. He kept asking me why I have a book like that. But I like it, though. Here,” he said, pulling out another story book from his bag. Junmyeon took it hesitantly before he read the title.

“ ‘King Arthur’?”

“I thought it would be hard for you to read a book that you don’t like. You’ve read the Hangul version of this book, right? You told me last time.” Junmyeon nodded; his cheekbones were filling up his eyes and his face was that one of gratitude.

“I’m really glad that we’re friends, Yixing,” he said before throwing himself onto Yixing and made them stumbled before falling and let their faces attacking the floor. They both got bloody noses.

 

-

 

Junmyeon read the story of King Arthur that morning with a red nose but his heart felt lifted. His English pronunciation got better because he had read the same story more than a couple of times in Hangul version so he was really confident and even Ms. Han was nodding contentedly listening to his story. Because Junmyeon was really good in reading the story to his classmates and explaining the parts where his classmates weren’t able to digest  _(especially where Merlin’s magic didn’t even appear except during the foretelling about the real King)_ , the reading session that day became one of the most interesting sessions the class ever had in months and Junmyeon couldn’t help but feel awfully thankful towards Yixing. When he finished, everyone clapped and Junmyeon laughed when a male classmate tried to whistle for him but failed.

With that, the story about the pitiful mermaid that turned into bubbles after losing her lovely voice and the love of her life was forgotten along with the doodled story book underneath Yixing’s desk, but it wasn’t for long.

A week later, during a PE class which Junmyeon skipped because of a bad headache  _(for a sleepless night watching out for the hyperactive Sehun because their parents were out to his step-father’s company party)_ , he was sleeping at his seat when he saw the blue book that Yixing put under his desk was still there. Junmyeon faintly chuckled, reminding himself as to how oblivious his friend could be most of the time and pulled the book out from under Yixing’s desk. He squinted when he saw the same mermaid – stupid fish woman – with the same expression looked as if she was staring at him from a distance.

Without thinking, he flipped open the pages and found that the bubbles were still there, untouched and looking still very alive even though they were only doodled with pencil. Each time he finished flipping the book from the first page to the last; he closed it and then opened it again, repeating the same movement. It was only until the fifth time he did it  _(he didn’t really count)_  that he realised Yixing was standing next to him, watching him with an unwavering interest. Junmyeon was caught off guard.

“I thought you said you didn’t like it?” Yixing asked, pulling his chair and sat down. He was wiping the trickling sweats on his forehead with his jersey sleeve while saying something about how playing soccer was a hell when you did it with the hyung that looked like a girl from the third grade.

“Yes, I still don’t like it. I’m just, you know, playing with this bubbles that you drew,” he explained, hands still flipping the pages and showed them to Yixing who had his eyebrows raised questioningly.

“I didn’t draw anything. I never doodle on my books. Let me see that,” he shook his head and dragged the book to his side. Doing what Junmyeon was doing since earlier, his questioning look became clearer and finally a knowing smile appeared on his face.

“I know who did this.” His voice sounded certain, so Junmyeon was getting eager to know the creator of the bubbles that kept him distracted since the day he first opened the book. Yixing cocked his head towards Junmyeon’s direction and his smile turned into a grin. Junmyeon didn’t like that look.

“Who did it?”

“Who else, Junmyeon-ah? It’s the mermaid of course! You must’ve been crying while reading this story, didn’t you? That’s why she came alive!” Junmyeon didn’t like the way Yixing tried to mock him either, so he smacked the back of his head and stood up.

“Ouch! What was that for??” Yixing squealed, and Junmyeon ran out from the class, ignoring Yixing who was calling him and telling him to stop running  _(which he wouldn’t do, not even for his life)._

 

-

 

So why the story from more than ten years ago must suddenly appeared inside his head right now? Junmyeon had no idea.

Perhaps old memories like that tend to appear unmentionably. He then started to wonder about the mystery of the human’s mind that worked best on useless miscellaneous when its owner was trying to focus on other important things, perhaps like, during this critical moment at his part-time job where a fucking sharp knife was in his one hand and a fucking expensive salmon was in the other?

“Yah, Junmyeon hyung! It’s not gonna slice itself up, okay?” the fellow kitchen assistant whispered loudly to his ear, nudging him in the rib and Junmyeon woke up from the stories of King Arthur and the pitiful mermaid. He looked to his side, blankly staring at the tall colleague next to him who was still watching out for the head chef, in case they got busted for not doing their task properly.

“Chanyeol-ah, I’m very good with English, you know? That’s why I took up this course. Because I’m very good with English, and I freaking love literature,” he finally said as his hand skilfully trimmed out the head of the fish starting from underneath its gills, left to right. The end of his eyes caught the tall figure of the head chef, walking in between the buzzing kitchen staff, yelling something about an uncooked carp and two overcooked chickens but the buzzing were still going. It couldn’t be stopped. It should never be, or everyone in this crowded kitchen will have their butts kicked by a pair of Timberland’s finest men boots.

“I know, I know. You helped me a lot of times, hyung. Now get moving or he’s gonna kick your ass,” Chanyeol pointed at the head chef’s direction with his mouth, and they both looked down to their own stations when the head chef stared at them simultaneously.

Better not to be caught.

Cleaning the fish of its slimy blood and cutting it in half, Junmyeon’s active mind suddenly wandered to the pitiful mermaid that he read about. He recalled hating the story so much when he was a kid because the mermaid died in the end  _(he also recalled Yixing saying she wasn’t dead every time he said that)_ but honestly, the only thing that he hated was how the story ended.

The whole story itself was a nice literature.

“Hyung!” he could hear Chanyeol calling for his name, trying to warn him about the impending danger from behind. The new kitchen assistant with small eyes and sharp chi _n (and boy was he noisy)_  was holding up a huge serving of sashimi on a tray above his head and was swaying dangerously towards their direction, trying to get it safely across the busy kitchen to the waiting waiter. Junmyeon rolled his eyes and moved out of the way  _(destroying that one meal could cost him his pay for the entire week)_  but the new assistant started to lose his balance and the tray started to slant.

“Watch out!” he could hear Chanyeol shrieked and instinctively turned around to see fish meats were rolling down the tray towards him. Quickly, he caught the slanted end of the tray and pushed it up, resulting in a wave of relieved sighs from the other employees  _(he thought he heard the head chef’s too)_. The new assistant said thanks and Junmyeon said through his gritted teeth, warning him that “if I lose my job because of you, you have to feed me until I die!”

_You cannot die, Junmyeon-ah! You’re my bubble friend!_

Damn it. His mind was really upsetting him, and Junmyeon felt his head pulsing, as if his brain was beating like his heart against his skull. This wasn’t the thing that he wanted to remember the most, though. Obviously not while he was working.

“What’s wrong, hyung? You’re hurt?” Chanyeol asked, taking the salmon from Junmyeon’s hands because the chef needed it fast and his hyung wasn’t making much progress. Junmyeon wiped the sweats on his temples with his left sleeve and shook his head.

“Just… not feeling very well.” He felt his world started to spin, and Chanyeol was divided into two persons.

“Junmyeon hyung!” was the last thing he heard from Chanyeol before he saw the floor coming towards his face in a fast speed.

Noisy bastard.


	2. The Derelict Prince

Yifan inhaled, and he held his breath in.

The first ten seconds when the oxygen was denied from entering his nose, there were loud beatings that came from all over his body. Chest, wrists, ankles, the little spots behind the ears, the base of his neck where the bones met, his temples, even his eyes felt pulsing.

Yifan still didn’t want to breathe out.

The next five seconds was more silent. His heart beat slower, his pulses were restrained, and his throat felt stuffy. The pain was felt internally, from head to toes.

His hands fisted and his knuckles turned white.

_Sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, nineteen—_

Twenty seconds without air and Yifan was thoroughly suffocated. Abruptly, he breathed out and his hands relaxed. Oxygen was rushing in and he could feel the blood was pumped thickly through his veins. It felt as if his whole body was pulsing, and his chest was lugged with that thing you had when you were facing one of those severe hiccups.

He blinked.

“So that’s how it felt.”

He gently whispered against the subtle wind of the early winter. His eyes were closed and he lifted his chin up, tasting the smell of the ocean with the tip of his nose.

He had never been to the beach as early as this morning. He never had the reasons to. But this time he did. This time, he wanted to. Because today was an anniversary that he wouldn’t want to miss.

_(again)_

The collar of his beige velvety trench coat was turned upwards as one of his hands was inside his front pocket; fingers were tracing the creases on the old piece of paper that he received more than five years ago.

 

_Dear Yifan-ge,_

_I can’t, not anymore._

 

“What an idiot,” he chuckled, remembering someone’s droopy eyes and remarkable dimples. Sometimes he could hear that someone’s chirpy voice greeting him when he came back from his tiring day at the studio; the heat from the strong lights and that self-restrain to not to wipe off the thick layers of makeups on his face was really tiring and Yifan could really use someone’s company to make all the tiredness to go away.

 

_Yifan-ge, I think in the next life, I want to be a starfish._

 

“Why a starfish?” he asked to the chirpy voice inside of his head. It was so clear and unwavering the first time he heard it, it stuck inside his head like an old record on play; sometimes creaky but it was certainly playing the right words times and times again. He could hear the voice laughed and he saw a flash of the deep dimples that never failed to make him stare whenever he saw them.

 

_A live starfish is soft and sticky, right? Recently, he keeps saying that he feels like he’s the mermaid that’s going to turn into bubbles once he’s done living, so I want to be the starfish that could stuck to him until that time comes._

 

“What a strange dream,” he said, one hand pushing his dark brown hair away from his forehead. The winter wind started to get to his bones and he shivered quietly.

“Then what are you going to do when he finally turns into bubbles? Stick to another mermaid?”

 

_I’m going to pray to God to turn me into the –_

 

“—sea. Man, of all the things that you could have become, you chose to be the sea,” a voice suddenly emerged in between the chirpy one; soft enough to be swallowed in by the tides that crashed the beach tirelessly but loud enough to reach his ears, and Yifan opened his eyes. He was sure it wasn’t just another voice inside his head.

_(there had always been one voice, and one voice only)_

“Really, you’re fucking amazing, man. You said I’m your bubble friend but then you’ve turned yourself into the magnificent sea. Aren’t we supposed to exist  _together_??” his last word became a scream rather than a gentle speech, and it made Yifan turned to his left after minutes spent looking for the second voice that interrupted his conversation with the chirpy voice earlier. A few metres to his left was a small man in a dark blue hoodie – _hands in pockets, lips shivered_ – squatting down just a few inches away from the white foams that looked like huge palm prints left on the shore after the tides retreated back into the sea. His jeans were ripped on the knees and Yifan unconsciously wondered if he didn’t feel the cold with thin clothes like that.

It wasn’t his intention to stare at the small guy that morning, especially when he was left with just another ten hours before his flight back to Canada. That, if he rejected the interview with the idol magazine for a special feature on the latest sci-fi film he starred in. Seriously, his publicist in Korea was doing his job well. There’s nothing impossible in the life of Byun Baekhyun; he realised it today after reminiscing about his first fanmeeting for his third movie in Seoul a couple of years back in the few minutes of him standing and staring at the squatting guy in hoodie.

_(it wasn’t even a box-office but Baekhyun, that little guy surely got some big medias wrapped around his little fingers)_

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t say that. I didn’t mean it,” the guy whispered after a few minutes of silence  _(and not realising how intense he was being watched since then)._  He was staring into the horizon, admiring the beautiful orange lining above the sea and waited patiently until the sun appeared like a small ball of fire beneath the dark blue sky. Slowly, he reached for a bottle of soju to his right  _(which wasn’t in Yifan’s view until a few seconds ago)_  and poured it into two small plastic cups buried halfway into the sand.

“You never had the chance to try this before, right? I mean we were still underage at that time and the shemale ahjumma kept on yapping about wanting to tell tale us to our parents. Well screw her/him, because now we can. I’m old enough to buy it and you’re big enough to drink it. I mean, you’re the ocean now, what’re you gonna be afraid of, right?” he said, pulling one cup from inside the sand and raised it high, as if he was toasting the winter wind. Yifan could hear his laughter – sad and longing as he drank up the soju from his cup and poured the other one into the coming tides.

 

_How intoxicating his laughter sounds like –_

 

Yifan didn’t really understand why, but there was something about this small guy that caught his eyes and as if he didn’t have any desire to leave, any at all, he stayed watching – standing silently, hands back in pockets and fingers gently caressing the same old letter.

“Here, my friend. Try it,” he could hear the small guy offered another cup towards the unresponsive vast sea. He was hiccupping for a few times; body swayed a little to the left and right, sometimes backwards but what worried Yifan the most was when he started to lean in towards the coming tides in front of him. Unconsciously clenching the letter in his hand, Yifan moved a couple of steps nearer towards the now intoxicated small guy, trying to prevent any death around him as much as he could.

_(at least not today, goddamn it!)_

He flinched when he saw the small guy leant dangerously again towards the sea. He was sure if he was later than a second from where he was right then, a stiff and lifeless man would be found on the shore the next morning and there would be evidence convincing the legal authority that he was there when that happened, so with the thoughts only concerning himself and his only, Yifan finally rushed forward and although his hands almost slip, he regained his grip and pulled the small man by his hoodie, slightly choking him in the process.

“They should put a  _‘don’t drink and swim’_  sign somewhere in this area,” he nagged to himself in English, still wouldn’t let go of the drunken small man’s hoodie even though the latter was struggling like a little hamster that was pinched by its furry neck. With his heels lifted a bit higher above the ground, he turned around and his reddened cheeks met Yifan’s eyes.

 

_\-- the universe has been by my side all along_

 

“Wha – what? Huh? Sorry? I can’t… I don’t… huh?” the small man asked, or at least with the way he was stumbling with his words, switching between his native tongue and English, seemed as if he was trying to ask Yifan what he was doing with his hoodie and he very much like him to stop doing that or he was going to fall down and falling down while being intoxicated too much like this  _(he had like three small cups of soju, that’s a lot!)_  wasn’t going to be a good ending for him. Yifan grimaced, and lowered his hand. The small man was now standing on both feet properly, but he still didn’t release his grip on the hoodie. Who knows what kind of outburst he was going to face if he ever let him go.

“Ahjussi, you speak English.”

“Who’s your ahjussi?!” Yifan exclaimed, pissed by the label. The small man jolted, a tad surprised before he smiled until his upper lip seemed to be disappeared. His full cheeks were raised until they covered his small eyes, and Yifan thought hey he did look like a hamster.

“I know English. I’m an English major, focused on literature. Ahjussi, do you read anything? Books, I mean. Books with pictures and short stories in it. I love fairy tales. They’re beautiful and fun and…” his voice seemed to falter and Yifan felt as if the small guy became heavier, so he let go of his grip on the hoodie.

Big mistake on his part.

As soon as he let him go, the small guy leant abruptly towards him, knocking him down with his back towards the sandy ground. Yifan thought about how hard it would be to clean up all the sand that got stuck onto his expensive velvety beige trench coat while he was falling down, one hand unconsciously moved around the small man’s waist – like an instinct – to make sure that he wouldn’t be harmed as they were hitting the ground.

‘Funny,’ he thought, ‘this instinct is funny,’ when he realised how tight his arm was on the unconscious man’s shoulder and how natural the other was secured around his waist. It felt as if the time stopped and Yifan would like to stay just like this for another few minutes. It had been a long time since he felt another warm body pressed against him  _(other than some regular you-know-what for his vital needs)_ , heartbeat in sync and small snores caught his ears.

 

_He’s cute, isn’t he, Yifan-ge?_

 

Yifan blinked thrice, and his body stiffened. The small man in his arms mumbled slowly in his sleep, and he wasn’t really sure if what he heard was right.

“Yixing-ah, I miss you.”

And the chirpy voice inside his head suddenly quietened.


	3. Pieces of A Broken Seashell

When Junmyeon was in his first year of junior high, he learnt a lot of things.

First – a friend in need isn’t always going to be a friend indeed. Though it doesn’t mean they are not your friends at all. They are around, and will be there when you need them, but nothing could latch you to them. The connection is there, indefinitely, but barely visible. Of all people around him, Yixing was the one who taught him this.

“Oh, sorry Junmyeon-ah, but I’ve got to practice this afternoon,” he told him apologetically, one hand unzipping his bag and the other was busy picking up his writing utensils as Junmyeon watched him. He nodded, understood. This was one of the moments when Yixing would like him to just stand and watch him instead of dragging him to the used bookstore they found together on their way home on the second day of their junior high and be lost inside the world of kings and unicorns.  By the middle of the school year, Yixing was already the star in the school’s basketball team and Junmyeon was the quiet small guy with thick glasses who would always be sitting at the nearest bench next to the court, watching his best friend running around chasing an orange ball with the other nine tall guys, Yixing being the smallest among them.

Sometimes it upset Junmyeon a bit thinking what a difference one summer could affect your growth  _(he didn’t know by then that it was because of puberty, genetics, calcium and probably a little bit of luck)_  and it upset him even more when Yixing didn’t seem to be affected by late night readings with him throughout the holiday before they entered junior high. Seriously, he couldn’t even walk without bumping into people without his glasses. When they both went for an eye check a few weeks ago, Junmyeon swore that he could see the shock on the optometrist’s face seeing how bad his eyes deteriorated since the last time they came—it was three weeks before that.

“It’s okay, I’ll just watch you from the bench,” he told Yixing, getting ready to clean up his own desk too. Yixing stood silent, hands halted from picking up his books and pens.

“Uhm, I wonder if it’s really alright with you, Junmyeon-ah.”

“What?” Junmyeon asked, curious and a little dumbfounded by Yixing’s words. He should be the one asking that question, shouldn’t he? After all, he was the one interrupting one of Yixing’s personal times. Yixing smiled, flashing his dimples and patted Junmyeon’s head. It was irritating for him to do that when their difference in height wasn’t really that far. Junmyeon raised his brows and his glasses on his nose were lifted a little.

“You can always go to the bookstore or go home first, Junmyeon-ah. You don’t have to wait for me,” Yixing said bluntly, and Junmyeon hated it when he said things like that in his kind voice. The pain was even more severe when he said it kindly and Junmyeon didn’t have anything to say the opposite. But to tell him to go home first… isn’t that a little bit insensitive?

_He knew why Junmyeon and Sehun never went home straight from school, right?_

“Maybe I’ll just go and fetch Sehun. He’s been whining about wanting to eat the new flavoured Cornetto since last week,” Junmyeon said while pushing away Yixing’s hand from the top of his head; his voice sounded hurt. Yixing rubbed the back of his neck, sorry with his own words. Maybe he was too much? Maybe he should just let Junmyeon watch him as always. It’s not like he didn’t enjoy it, seeing the small student reading diligently while some of the girls were chanting Yixing’s name, unaware of where and when he was at that time.

“I’ll see you tonight, okay?” he said, trying to find Junmyeon’s eyes with his. Junmyeon was still picking up his things, so he didn’t see Yixing’s effort (or maybe he just didn’t want to).

“It’s alright. It’s gonna be too late by the time you finished your practice.”

“But my cousin hyung just sent me a box of his old books. I want you to see it first,” he insisted, walking side by side with Junmyeon as they were leaving the now empty classroom. Junmyeon walked with his head looking on the floor, watching his own two feet taking turn with every step that he took.

“We can just do it some other time. It can wait, can’t it?”

“Junmyeon-ah—” Yixing halted his walk, grabbing Junmyeon’s arm as he did so. Being pulled around without any warning, Junmyeon couldn’t hide his scrunched up face that was holding so many hidden feelings; too many that he would like to tell Yixing that night but he knew he couldn’t. Yixing was surprised, but he knew Junmyeon too well and he knew what Junmyeon was facing at the moment, so he stayed calm and let Junmyeon be calmed too before he started asking.

“Did something happen?”

“No.” The answer was too short and Yixing wasn’t convinced at all.

“Junmyeon…” Yixing held both his arms and forced him to lift his face. There was a safe feeling that suddenly slipped in between them and Junmyeon couldn’t help but shut his eyes, enjoying the feeling while it last. He knew it wouldn’t last forever.

“She starts talking to me again. After three months, she asked me this morning whether I wanted breakfast or not.” His fingers were pinching the hem of his uniform and his glasses moved as he blinked. Yixing’s eyes widened, and he almost drew up a smile, almost, when Junmyeon lifted his face and Yixing saw his eyes. It wasn’t a pair of relieved eyes, and Junmyeon did not smile.

“It’s not a good thing?” Yixing asked carefully, though his voice seemed to falter, in doubt with his own inquiry. Junmyeon chuckled at his slightly broken tone—not everything about Yixing had changed and he was relieved, and slowly shook his head.

“She only made the breakfast for me.” Junmyeon said, and Yixing nodded; he understood it perfectly. Releasing Junmyeon’s arms, he proceeded with grabbing his neck instead, and Junmyeon was forced to move together with him along the hallway.

“Let’s go,” he said while flashing his dimple with his beautiful smile. Junmyeon slapped his back as he didn’t stop when they were running down the stairs, worried that they might trip against each other’s feet and he might get killed in the process.

_He didn’t plan to die this young, at least—_

“Where?”

“To buy Sehun some Cornetto.”

“But you got practice.”

“I can just do it some other time, and you can watch me then,” Yixing answered proudly, knowing Junmyeon would frown and said no (but Yixing would still see him in his next practice with his book and thick glasses), subtly putting his lips on top of Junmyeon’s hair and still didn’t let go.

 

-

 

Junmyeon was woken up by the sounds of a pair of familiar feet shuffling against the worn grey carpet in his bedroom.

“Hyung, you’re going to be late for your part-time,” Sehun said in his sleepy voice as he squatted next to Junmyeon’s bed with a pink penguin plush inside his arms, wiping his nose and clearing his throat. Junmyeon found it difficult to open his eyes with the dim white bulb hanging from the ceiling, but he sat up anyway. Reaching for his wristwatch from the nightstand, his face twisted as he saw the hands were pointing at four o’clock.

“Sehun-ah, it’s only four in the afternoon.”

“No, hyung, it’s already six,” his brother mumbled and Junmyeon could barely heard him as his voice muffled against the pink penguin where he buried his face in. Junmyeon looked again at his wristwatch and only by then he realised that none of the hands were moving the way they should have. Never mind that, though, his head felt pulsing right now and Sehun somehow looked as if he was ten metres away  _(he was not, he was just squatting next to his bed)_.

“Are you alright, hyung?” Sehun stood up and palms his forehead. Funny, Junmyeon thought it was Sehun’s palm that felt hotter than his head. Pushing his brother’s hand away, he pulled him down to sit on his bed and felt his forehead with the back of his hand.

“Yah, Sehun-ah, you’ve got a fever!” he yelled, and Sehun covered his ears. Junmyeon wanted to rush out from his bed and get his white medical box, but his legs felt soggy and his throat was filled with the hot fluid that rose from his stomach. Sehun chuckled weakly as he pushed Junmyeon back onto his own bed.

“I’ve had some medicine, and the ahjumma next door cooked me some samgyetang* too. There’s some left in the pot if you wanna,” he told Junmyeon as he lied down on his brother’s bed and closed his eyes.

“Hyung, you were drunk this morning, by the sea.” Junmyeon rubbed his temples, trying to sooth down his hangover a little bit before his shift at the restaurant started at eight tonight. It was a good thing that he’s in semester break, since they were going to need buck loads of money once Sehun is accepted somewhere and their current bank account wouldn’t be able to cover it. Junmyeon knew he could make it happen, he knew he could. All he needed was some perseverance to make it till the end.

“It’s rare to see you drunk like that. You looked extremely relaxed,” Sehun said again after he didn’t get any reply for a long time. Junmyeon slammed his body next to his mumbling little brother and chuckled. The bed creaked and Sehun was saying something about how it’s going to break if he lay down like that again.

It was quiet for a few minutes, and they both enjoyed the temporary serenity.

“It’s today, isn’t it? The day he became the sea?” Sehun then asked knowingly, and Junmyeon hummed yes. There was a sound of wind rattling through their apartment windows, seeping through every crack, surrounding the building a few times and then left. Like someone had just come to visit the two brothers who resided there, making sure they’re fine and left when he knew that they’ll be alright. Junmyeon thought it was something that always happens when you’re living in a cheap apartment near the sea.

 

_Sometimes he loved to think that it was Yixing who came flying from the ocean because he missed them both (like how they missed him)—_

 

“I’m sorry, hyung,” Sehun said as he rolled to Junmyeon’s side and sprawled one of his arms on the little man’s chest and buried his face by his the crooks on his neck. Junmyeon laughed and patted his head; he wondered how tall had Sehun become since the last time he had really take a look on his features.

“It’s not your fault, Sehun-ah. We both know this. He knew. You’re not the one to blame.”

“But still, if only I could stop her…” Junmyeon slapped the back of his head, and Sehun stopped talking.

“How did I get home?” Junmyeon asked, desperately trying to change the direction of their conversation. He knew today was the day Yixing became the sea, the day he lost his best friend, and people thought it would be a great relief for him if only he could speak to someone about it. But Junmyeon thought that would leave him with even a deeper scar than it already had. Talking about somebody who’s already gone doesn’t give any relief. If it did anything at all, it’s pain. And Junmyeon was someone who was afraid of pain  _(maybe because he had had enough of it growing up)_.

It had been five years, and Junmyeon thought it was enough talking about Yixing. People should just let him live inside his memories as the magnificent ocean instead of the unmatched words that poured out from the mouth of people who didn’t really know him; becoming the sad story of a bright boy who lost at sea.

“I went to look for you, and I took you home.”

“Alone?” because Sehun was having a fever and Junmyeon began to feel sorry for him. Sehun shook his head, though, and pointed at the opened door of his bedroom, straight into their small living room where the television was on and all that Junmyeon could see was a pair of long legs and long arms stretched out left and right from the back of the blue old couch they bought from the family who were living upstairs a year ago.

“Who is that?” he asked, eyes still looking at the couch, interested in seeing the owner of those long limbs  _(and he compared those with his at the back of his mind—how tall is this dude??)_. Sehun rolled the other way around, giving his back towards Junmyeon and mumbled.

“He said he’s your friend. His name is Kris.”

 

-

 

Yifan couldn’t remember the last time he had ever been inside an apartment like this. The audible sounds of other people talking, the smell of old furniture and whirring buzz of a cheap air purifier; an apartment where you didn’t have to turn off the light after exiting a room because you knew there will be another person who noticed and turn it off for you  _(probably with a lengthy nag)._

_A home._

His phone had been ringing since he missed the scheduled time by his PA for the flight back to Canada, which had already left ten minutes ago. Byun Baekhyun had been trying to reach him too; calling his every phone (he had four phones inside his leather bag and one in his pocket); probably cursing him inside his small head beneath his brunette hair for not appearing at the interview he got for him in the afternoon.

His ears pricked to a voice that sounded like a feverish teenage boy, and he knew its owner was the kid who ran towards him just in time when the small man pushed him down as he blacked out. He remembered seeing the pale kid’s worried face, and was pretty amused with the way how the kid’s lisp made him uncomfortable at saying his own name.

“Sehun,” he said awkwardly, trying really hard to pronounce it right when Yifan asked him as he lifted his unconscious brother from the tall guy. Instantly, he was reminded of the old letter that was still neatly folded inside his pocket.

 

_Junmyeon just called and he sounded panicked. I’m sure it’s about Sehunnie again—_

 

A few minutes later, there was a sound of distant rustling, as if someone was getting of the bed and footsteps were heard coming towards him. Listening to the statics on the television that sometimes went blurry in between the commercials and the rerun of a soap drama (really? At this hour?), he kept his eyes closed as he could sense the warmth from someone’s body closing in from the top of his head.

“I don’t have a friend named Kris,” he could hear Junmyeon mumbled alone, talking to himself. Yifan still didn’t want to open his eyes; probably it’s going to be fun to observe how someone was watching him out of curiosity.

 

_Like a lost hamster—_

 

Junmyeon squatted next to him, his back facing the ignored television. Probably he was squatting too close because Yifan swore he could feel small blows of warm air on his face, and he would like to tear open his eyes and ask the small man to not to do that  _(but he liked the way how Junmyeon’s heartbeats were audible to his ears because of their physical closeness)._

“Excuse me, who are you?” Junmyeon asked carefully; his voice was probably unheard even to himself. Yifan wanted to smile, because with the way the small guy was asking him, he felt like he was being interviewed by a five-year-old kid who had never seen a foreigner’s face  _(though he wasn’t really foreign to this country, not at all)._ Suppressing his desire, instead he pulled in his arms and rolled to a side—the side where Junmyeon was squatting and watching him with a lot of interest. He could hear the small man almost choking on his words when he did that, and he probably had lost his balance and fell down on his ass (but Yifan still didn’t want to open his eyes).

A few rustling sounds continued and Yifan figured that Junmyeon was now back on his feet, back to his squatting and analysing his features.

 

_What a curious little hamster_

 

-

If there was any word that Junmyeon could use to describe the man who slumbered on his couch, it would be unique.

Or probably beautiful. Maybe Junmyeon would like to use both. And in his memory, he didn’t have anyone with this exquisite features of long limbs (with beautiful fingers), thickly aligned eyebrows, small lips and long, long lashes (one fell on his cheek and Junmyeon would really like to pick it up) in his small circle of peers. Most of his classmates were typical Koreans—small eyes, thin lips and of average heights. Except for the junior he did his part-time with; that Park Chanyeol. He was a giant with Yoda’s ears and star-like eyes.

Kris rolled his body to his side, head moving uncomfortably as he placed on of his arms underneath as a support. Junmyeon was surprised to see the face he was examining the side profile earlier was now facing towards him, making him lose his balance and fell. Squatting back to his initial position, he thought he heard a chuckle breathed out from Kris’s nose, and his face felt hot with embarrassment.

 

_Maybe he was just dreaming about something_

 

Junmyeon cleared his throat, and breathed in.

“Excuse me, Krissue, you see, I’m Junmyeon. Kim Junmyeon. And you’re in my house right now, and I need to leave for my part-time shift in about thirty minutes from now, and I’m not leaving a stranger with my little brother inside my house. Hello?” he poked a finger on the sleeping man’s cheek, resulted in a grunt from him. Junmyeon stood up abruptly, being probably too cautious and mentally scolded himself for looking like a coward  _(in front of a sleeping man? Please.)_.

“You puked on me,” Kris said with his arm on his eyes, blocking the light from the fluorescent lamp on the ceiling from entering his eyes. Junmyeon jolted as he listened to the deep nasally voice that suddenly came out from the tall man he had been mesmerized with since a few minutes ago.

“Sorry?”

“I said, you puked on me. Sehun washed my shirt and thank God your brother isn’t as small or as short as you, but I’m still going to need a new shirt,” he said again, now sitting up from his slumber and squinted towards Junmyeon who was still standing there, looking at him like an idiot.

“When?”

“The shirt? Now, if possible.”

“No, I mean when did I do that?”

“This morning. What, you’ve been brainwashed or something?” he asked annoyingly. Junmyeon scrunched his face, didn’t really want to remember anything that embarrassing but he thought it wouldn’t be fair if Kris remembered something about him that he didn’t even want anyone to know. A few moments later, he clapped once and pointed his finger towards the long-limbed man in front of him  _(he’s probably bigger than Chanyeol, this Kris)_  and his face was of shocked.

“You’re the ahjussi!”

“Who’s your ahjussi?!”

 

-

 

Kris didn’t want to leave, even though Junmyeon had told him about his shift that was going to start in another ten minutes. Instead, he asked to be fed because “you messed up my four hundred dollar’s shirt”.

Junmyeon watched as  ~~the ahjussi~~  Kris gulped down the last drop of samgyetang from his favourite red bowl (he didn’t get to have a taste of it) and asked for another bowl of rice. Scrunching his face, Junmyeon grudgingly grabbed the bowl from Kris’s hands and scooped into the rice cooker messily and slammed the bowl right back in front of him.

“I didn’t know this is the way Koreans treat their house guests.”

“I didn’t know a house guest could be this irritating.”

“Good point.”

Kris proceeded to fill himself up with the second bowl of rice and even finishing the kimchi Sehun put out from their fridge earlier  _(that kid, getting so damn well with someone just because he claimed to be a friend of his brother!)_  before he went back to his room to rest as his fever was getting slightly higher.

“You need to take him to a doctor,” Kris suddenly said, still munching the last crunchy bit of the kimchi inside his mouth. Junmyeon bit his lower lip and stared at his house guest.

 

_I saw him changed into a man too old for his age_

 

Kris suddenly chuckled and Junmyeon thought he was being ridiculed somehow inside his head, so instead he decided to ignore the rather disturbing guest in front of him and stood up to wear his kitchen uniform and getting his knapsack. It was a good thing he had two pairs of uniform since the one he wore yesterday was stained with some carbonara sauce and he forgot to tell Sehun to wash it for him after he got back from the library  _(or he probably did but Sehun just didn’t want to do it for him, that brat)_.

“He’ll be alright after a good rest. Don’t worry. Now can you finish eating already? I need to get going, like, right now.”

Kris wiped his mouth with the tissue Junmyeon left on the table, and stayed seated. Junmyeon grunted; he really didn’t have time for this.

“Why were you at the beach?” Kris suddenly asked, and Junmyeon was flabbergasted. Not really waiting for an answer, Kris stood up and turned around to face Junmyeon who was halted from finishing the last button of his white kitchen uniform.

“You were drunk, and you were talking to the sea. Why?” Kris walked closer, a bit amused seeing Junmyeon’s gaping lips and unfocused eyes. He liked it when Junmyeon looked confused, and he started to think of the endless possibilities of what could he do to always see him in that reaction.

 

_My Junmyeon—_

 

“It was an anniversary,” Junmyeon finally said, making Kris seemed to realised how close he was with the small man. Junmyeon’s hands were already on his chest, and it felt as if he was trying to push him away (but it also felt like he didn’t, Junmyeon couldn’t tell).

“Whose anniversary?”

Junmyeon sighed. This house guest was so curious about someone he just met, and why didn’t he stop explaining? He could have stop a while ago when Kris was asking to be fed.

“A friend who chose to become the sea five years ago. And you, why were you there?” he counter-attacked, trying to make Kris as flustered as he was. Kris was still near, and he still wasn’t backing away.

What a strange situation. Even stranger when both of them didn’t really feel like it was strange at all.

“For a beloved cousin. He wanted to become a starfish for his dear mermaid.”

Kris smiled sadly, and Junmyeon had a weird urge to wipe off the smile from his beautiful face with a kiss.


	4. The Thirsty Little Fish

_Once, Sehun thought he saw a Peter Pan was trying to catch his Tinkerbell whenever he glanced over his shoulder._

 

Sehun once thought that he could get used to having two brothers to nag and spoil him as he grew up. For him, seeing Junmyeon and Yixing waiting to fetch him at his school gate every evening was a common sight. If he was lucky, Yixing would threw him a popsicle as he ran towards them after seeing Junmyeon glaring at him for being slow.

“Was it good?” Yixing would ask him as he licked the last piece of ice off the wooden stick, and Sehun would nod quickly without a word. Junmyeon would roll his eyes and quietly handed him his unfinished popsicle while nagging at his little brother about eating cold food too fast and acting as if he was upset with Yixing for spoiling Sehun too much.

“What? You’re even worse than I am!” Yixing would yell and Sehun would walk a few steps faster than his bickering brothers so he could enjoy his second popsicle in peace. It wouldn’t last long, though, because a few minutes later, Junmyeon would appear next to him while covering his ears with his small hands, refuse to listen to any of Yixing’s argument.  

“You coward! Brother-complex midget!” Yixing would yell, but Sehun guessed Junmyeon had heard all those name callings far too often, his brother would usually stuck out his ass and slapped them without even looking at Yixing whom he was mocking.

Sometimes he wondered where Junmyeon caught all these goddamn weird ways of expressing his feelings.

When this happened, Sehun would usually turn his head around a few times to figure out how Yixing reacted towards Junmyeon’s childish act  _(and why on earth he would want to stay friends with a retard like his brother)_. This was how Sehun silently discovered that Yixing had this one habit whenever Junmyeon was giving his back towards him. Yixing would always take a couple of steps back, stopped, and let Junmyeon walked a few steps forward with Sehun before he stretched out both his arms in front of him and in Junmyeon’s direction. Slowly, he would brought his palms together  _(very carefully, as if he was trying to trap a firefly in his palms)_ and pulled his arms back towards his body. Most of the times he would put both his palms on his left chest  _(timidly, whenever he noticed Sehun was watching),_ but sometimes, when he thought Sehun was too distracted to care, what’s with Junmyeon non-stop talking next to him  _(at which Sehun wasn’t really distracted at all),_  he would bring his clutched hands towards his lips, kissing them as subtly as he could.

Once, Sehun thought Yixing was probably trying to catch his own Tinkerbell. It didn’t take him long to realise that it was Junmyeon that Yixing was trying to hold from afar, though.

-

“You want me to look out for him until you’re back from work? I’m good at taking care of sick kids,” Sehun could hear Kris’ deep nasally voice travelled all the way from the living room through the opened door of his bedroom; offering a deed but it sounded so foreign and prideful with the way he pronounced the Hangul words. Junmyeon was mumbling something and unfortunately Sehun couldn’t make out what he was saying beneath the ruffles of his kitchen uniform.

“What? I can’t hear you, midget. Speak slowly,” Kris blatantly commented, and Sehun could somehow hear his brother’s choked voice, trying to conceal his anger as Kris hit his sensitive word spot on.

“If you say so, just make sure he’s fucking alive when I’m home, goddamn it!” and with that, Junmyeon slammed the front door closed. Sehun was counting the cost of fixing the front door once it has had enough of the slammings and kickings from his brother when his bedroom door creaked wider, allowing the huge guest to enter.

“Heard that? I just need to keep you alive until he’s back, Sehunnie,” Kris told him with a smug face as he saw Sehun sitting up on his bed, and Sehun felt as if he had seen that face somewhere. Was it at school? No no, somewhere foreign... prep school? The mall while he was with Jongin two days ago? He was sure it was at the mall, but which part of the mall, exactly? Because it felt as if Kris’ face was on some sort of a big display.

“Sehunnie? Are you okay? You look dizzy.” A huge and tanned hand with long fingers suddenly appeared in front of his eyes and Sehun was surprised, but it took him just a few seconds to register that it was Kris’ hand and he was only trying to check his temperature.

“Still hot and sizzling. Yah, Sehunnie, did you really take your medicine? You’ve slept since we’re home this morning,” Kris asked him suspiciously, his face was of worry with one hand placed on his hip, trying to feign his authority over a kid whom he had just met today.

 

_Yah, Sehunnie! Only cowards refuse to take their meds, and that’s because they’re goddamn afraid! Now take it!_

 

Sehun was suddenly reminded of a pale hand on his chin, forcing him to open his mouth and someone’s smile that came with dimples on its sides that appeared after he gulped down the tablets with tremendous effort. Yixing was pretty harsh when it came to health, wasn’t he?

“Sehunnie?”

“Please stop calling me that, Kris-ssi,” Sehun mumbled as he pulled his blanket over his head and lied back down on his bed. Kris was silent for almost a minute before Sehun heard him snorted.

“Isn’t your name Sehun? I thought calling you Sehunnie is... what’s the word...  _a term of endearment_ , or something, don’t you think?” Kris said suggestively as he pulled the worn out chair from underneath Sehun’s study desk and sat on it.

“I don’t like it. We only met today, and you don’t seem to be so close with Junmyeon hyung either,” Sehun answered him timidly from underneath the cover. He could hear Kris snorted again, but this time he didn’t say anything after that. He was still in the room, though, because there were sounds of fingers dribbling on the wooden study desk and the shuffles of Kris’ feet against the carpet on the floor. Sehun wanted to ask Kris to leave the room because it was never comfortable sleeping knowing you’re being watched by a stranger, but it seemed like the meds he gulped down after dinner earlier had taken effects on him, and his eyes were getting really drowsy. So instead, he ignored the intrusion from a rather curious  ~~trespasser~~  guest and slowly drifted into sleep, when Kris suddenly opened his mouth.

“Do you want to hear a story? I’m good at telling stories. The best, actually.”

“No thanks. I just want to sleep,” Sehun immediately replied to his offer, not wanting to have his rest disturbed any further, but it looked like Kris was not someone who would obey to anyone’s preference but his own. Excitedly, he cleared his throat and Sehun could almost hear the grin on Kris’ face.

Damn it.

“Once upon a time, there was a starfish that lived under the sea. Now, everybody knows that starfishes are creatures with little words and live quietly at the bottom of the sea, but man, there’s nothing quiet about this starfish. Once it’s stuck to a fish or other living organisms in the sea, it’d keep talking to them until they lose their minds. It asked weird questions, too, and demanded every answer he needed from its prey,” he ended the sentence with an empty laugh, and surprisingly that made Sehun’s ears pricked. He pushed the cover away from his body tardily and rolled to his side before he let out a sigh and glared at Kris. There was a small smile on Kris’ face when he saw Sehun was lured into his bait, and Sehun hated how he couldn’t control his curiosity like this.

“Bloody scary. Starfish have sounds?” Sehun asked, annoyed and curious at the same time, and Kris chuckled as he fisted his hand and made a ceremoniously winning gesture of pumping one hand up and down into the air before he returned back to his story. Sehun rolled his eyes.

“Of course they make sounds, everything speaks in fairy tales, Sehun. I started it off with ‘once upon a time,’ didn’t I?” Kris extended his hand to ruffle Sehun’s already messy hair, and strangely, Sehun felt kind of familiar with this scene  _(as if it used to be a habit of someone to do the same with him)_  that it felt only natural for him to let his hair be petted.

“Yeah, right. So, the starfish?” Sehun asked him again when he realised he was being too comfortable with Kris’ big hand playing with his hair. Slowly, he pulled his head away and Kris seemed to notice the uneasiness in his voice.

“Well, this one particular noisy starfish somehow ended up to be in love with a mermaid.” Kris continued, but then stopped when Sehun laughed, wondering how much ridiculous and crooked the flow of his story would turn out to be at the same time. Instead of asking Sehun to stop, he laughed along and it took them a few minutes to settle down.

“Rather ambitious for a starfish, wasn’t it? But really, this is how the story goes. Because it was in love with the mermaid, the starfish decided to befriend with the mermaid and soon enough, they were almost inseparable. Turned out the mermaid was a sad mermaid who came from a broken family of fishes and nobody wanted to listen to it until the starfish appeared,” Kris continued as he saw Sehun finally sat up on his bed, unconsciously getting more into the story.

“They were so close; it would be weird for the other fishes if they saw the mermaid swimming alone without the noisy starfish stuck on its tail even for a day. Heck, they were like a part of each other’s body! For years the starfish decided to be with the mermaid, even barnacles were afraid to latch onto the mermaid’s shiny blue scales,” Kris leant back a little bit into his seat, adjusting his spine for comfort. Sehun’s gaze was following his movement, and when he realised Kris’ gaze was also on his, he averted his eyes towards a random corner on the wall to his left.

“Did... did the starfish confess to, you know, his friend?” Sehun suddenly asked when Kris took too long to continue his story. He then mentally blamed his curiosity when he saw Kris smirked at him; really, the smugness that overflowed from his crooked smile reminded Sehun of a big poster somewhere in the city, and Sehun started to desperately going through his mental album once again.

“You think?”

Sehun sighed; the tiredness suddenly swarmed all over his body again when Kris asked him the question.

“I thought this is a fairy tale?” he said as he slammed his feverish body back against the hard mattress. Kris chuckled, pulling the cover on top of Sehun and palmed his forehead once again.

“Just wanting to trigger your critical thinking, or whatever they call it. Hey, you’ve cooled down. That’s good, isn’t it?” he cheered and Sehun could see his gum sweetly appeared on top of his aligned teeth as he smiled, almost innocently. Somehow loosened up to this eccentric stranger in front of him, Sehun drew up a small smile and nodded slowly.

“I’ll let you rest, for real this time,” Kris said laughingly, and was about to stand up to leave the room when Sehun grabbed his hand.

“Yeah?”

“I hope he did confess. I don’t want the starfish to be like this Peter Pan I used to know,” Sehun told him in between the small yawns he let out, and Kris stood still next to his bed.

“What about that Peter Pan?”

“Well, he always wanted to capture his own Tinkerbell, but...”

“But?”

-

But Sehun was already snoring, and Yifan didn’t have the heart to shake him up and make him finish the story. Patting the kid’s ruffled hair, Yifan could see the dark circles around the teenager’s eyes and his supposedly young skin that turned dry and made him looked a couple of years older than he was.

“He must’ve missed your bedtime stories, Yixing.”

-

_“He wanted to become a starfish for his dear mermaid.”_

_Junmyeon would like to get the sad voice out of his head, but his ears couldn’t stop buzzing with the rather weirdly pronounced Hangul and his eyes were still imagining the gum that accompanied the perfectly aligned teeth when Kris was smiling in front of him. His hands were still vibrating with the heartbeat that he felt as a result of being too close with the tall guest, and for some unknown reasons, he could feel his ears getting hot._

_“I’m sorry,” was all that he managed to say._

_He then remembered bringing one of his palms to Kris’ cheek, feeling the warmth of the tanned skin against his. Kris then looked down into his eyes, and Junmyeon couldn’t help but admire the sharp features of his nose, chin and the way his eyes twinkled when he smiled as Junmyeon pulled his hand away awkwardly, only to be caught midway by Kris’ long fingers. Slowly, Kris took his hand to his lips and planted a subtle kiss._

_“Tell me, Junmyeon. If I could return what the sea has taken from you, what would you do?”_

_Junmyeon eyes widened, and his breath fell short. Slowly, he backed away from Kris, away from his warmth and his lips on his hand. He felt scared of Kris’ question and of Kris himself. But still he was curious enough to ask about something else._

_“Can I choose which thing you could return to me?”_

_Kris smiled softly, and nodded._

_“Just one, though. What would it be?”_

-

“Hyung, watch out!” Chanyeol’s shriek suddenly blasted through Kris’ gentle voice, and Junmyeon could feel his body being jerked backwards by a pair of big, steady hands. A car’s lengthy honking and a few glares from the other side of the road made him realised that he was walking outside of the pedestrian’s pavement and into the main road. A shudder suddenly went through his body, from head to toe, and Junmyeon suddenly trembled out of control. Still inside Chanyeol’s arms, he squatted down and pulled his junior down together with him.

“What’s the matter with you today, hyung? I thought you said you’ve had enough rest, but you’re stumbling all over the kitchen tonight,” Chanyeol finally let out his worry as he patted his senior’s head. People were whispering as they walked past the two boys who were squatting together next to the pavement, and Chanyeol rolled his eyes. He couldn’t care less what people were going to say. If there’s someone in need of his attention right now, he would do anything he could to calm them down. That’s just how he is.

“I... I did. I don’t know, maybe I’m just too tired. Maybe I’ve caught Sehun’s fever,” he blindly suggested, trying to stand back on his feet but failed. His mind was too tired thinking about Kris’ question that was tempting and could inflict anger at the same time, and coupled with his slight hangover  _(he was really a bad drinker, seriously)_  from being drunk this morning, Junmyeon could say he was near totalled. It was fortunate that Chanyeol was an overgrown, healthy 20 year old male and Junmyeon was barely pass the average height of a young Korean man. Seeing how his senior was impossible to stand, Chanyeol offered him his back and almost forcefully grabbed Junmyeon on his back when the elder refused to do so.

“Do you want me to carry you in my arms? Princess-like? ‘Cause there’s not gonna be a damn problem with me doing so, I tell you,” he threatened, and Junmyeon thought alright, piggyback-riding someone this tall wasn’t so bad. He wasn’t really sure he’s going to make it home with Kris’ words replaying again and again inside his head, too.

The night wind was blowing softly despite a warning of an impending storm was out since three in the afternoon, so Chanyeol said it was probably a false warning.

“You can’t really put your trust in the local’s meteorology office, hyung. Last time I went there to deliver the newspapers, I got stuck with a ‘go-stop’ bet for two hours with the crews. I wouldn’t expect accurate weather reports from those ahjussis,” Chanyeol said and then laughed, his low voice made his laughter sounded flat and for some reasons, Junmyeon thought the vibration that went through his chest from Chanyeol’s laugh was comforting. Leaning his weight onto Chanyeol’s broad back didn’t seem to bother the junior much, so Junmyeon relaxed his head onto Chanyeol’s left shoulder with his arms around the junior’s neck.

“Chanyeol-ah, if I were to disappear one day, just like that, without a trace, would you miss me?”

Chanyeol snapped his head towards Junmyeon’s leaning head and Junmyeon could hear him growled. Sounded as if he wanted to say  _‘snap out of it hyung, you’re going to live longer than I am!’_  but instead, he took his time to arrange the few words he had inside his head.

“No one is so insignificant to have nobody notice them when they’re gone, hyung.”

“I know, but will you miss me?” he asked again, as if the answer from Chanyeol could change his future. Chanyeol chuckled and nodded.

“Of course, hyung. Granted, with my limited storage capacity here,” he pointed at his head and then continued, “I could forget you as I grow old, but there will be days when I’d remember about someone whom I carried on my back at night like this.” Junmyeon smiled at his answer, and thought what a sweet kid his junior was.

“Save that for your girlfriend, please. But thanks, Chanyeol.”

“For what, hyung?”

“For wanting to remember me.”

And silently, Junmyeon thought that Kris’ offer was probably just an outburst of sadness in his heart. He shouldn’t have spent his work hours thinking about his questions too much. After all, he was also at the beach this morning for an anniversary, and by the way he acted, Junmyeon was sure it wasn’t an anniversary to be celebrated.

Kris’ starfish was to be  _remembered_ , just like Junmyeon’s sea.


	5. Crashing Tides

Yifan could still remember the first time he came to Korea.

He was eleven and his mother was holding his hand tightly as they waited for someone to fetch them outside the Incheon airport. The eleven hours of flight from Vancouver to Seoul was tiring for him since it was his first time on a flight and he was too excited to sleep throughout the journey. They didn’t bring a lot of baggage, thank goodness; just a blue knapsack on his back and a medium-sized luggage for his mother. A few cabs were passing in front of them; slowing down and then drove away when his mother smiled and shook her head at the drivers. Yifan was getting a little bit upset by every cab that his mother rejected, and just when the seventh cab was passing by, a yellow, brand new Hyundai Sonata stopped right in front of him.

“Sis!” a very familiar face yelled excitedly as she jumped out from the driver’s seat, readily opening her arms and his mother almost squealed out of happiness as she ran towards her. It was almost a miracle for him to see his mother so happy like that; she used to only cry for a whole day and locked herself in her room whenever his father was home. Maybe it was because of the women with heavy makeups and clothes that seemed like underwear that he brought home together with him. Maybe it was because of the bruises she got when she tried to make him listen to her for once. Yifan wasn’t really sure, but he knew his mother was really happy when she saw the young lady.

“Well, hello there, stranger.” She teased in a sarcastic voice as she turned towards Yifan, her arms opened even wider and Yifan just couldn’t escape her hug.

“You know, Yifan, I saw you in my dream last night and you actually told me to hug you like this the next time we meet,” she said, and it was only when Yifan made a dying ox sound that she stopped torturing him with her tight hug. His mother was smiling at the sight of her sister’s affection towards her son.

“Did I tell you to break my ribcage too in your dream, auntie?” Yifan asked her with a frown, and she grinned idiotically. He let out a relieved sigh when she finally let him go and went to hug his mother again.

“I want to cry,” she said, and Yifan thought it was only her own way of expressing her longing for her sister, but then his mother cried first. She was crying so hard and loud, sniffling on his aunt’s shoulder that Yifan almost thought she was actually hurt.

Maybe there was something that he didn’t understand. Maybe ‘I want to cry’ was a secret code between them sisters, Yifan wasn’t really sure. But it took them almost five minutes of hugging and crying and laughing and crying again until a red sports car honked at his aunt, signalling her to move her car that was blocking its way.

“The bad thing about snobs,” his aunt suddenly said after they were all inside her car and her waving at the driver of the red sports car,

“...is that they’re everywhere.” She finished, and rolled her eyes mockingly. Yifan chortled and took a peek at his mother who was sitting in the front seat. She was smiling at her sister’s words, and Yifan thought she looked relieved, too. Of what, he couldn’t figure it out yet.

_(But he will, sooner than he expected)_

The journey back to his aunt’s house took them almost two hours by road. Of course, two hours were nothing compared to the eleven-hour flight, but when he added those digits up, Yifan thought the floor would look comfortable enough for him once they arrived. As soon as they were leaving Incheon, he plugged in his earphones and turned on his MP3. He was about to hum to the chorus of a Coldplay song when his aunt waved her free hand in front of him and made him blink.

“Eh?”

“I said Yixing’s been excited to finally have you here,” his aunt shouted, eyes were still fixed on the street and asking her sister to feed her the crackers she kept under the seats at the same time. Yifan nodded, acting pretty cavalier but he already had his earphones plugged out and his MP3 back into his knapsack. He wished that Yixing’s name would linger for a while longer on his aunt’s lips, just for a little while; saying something about the silly things that he did or any new book that he read, something that would give Yifan a few hints of this cousin of his named Zhang Yixing other than the pictures and letters of him that he received once or twice a month.

_(he barely replied, though, because he supposed to be the cool, grown-up older cousin everyone should have)_

Because much to Yifan’s surprise, the red squirming little meat inside his aunt’s arms a few years ago had turned into something beautiful with each letter and each year that passed. Whenever this thought crossed his mind, Yifan was reminded of the story of Disney’s Sleeping Beauty, the part where the Prince was disgusted at the mere sight of the new-born Princess, thinking about how unlucky he was to have being engaged to something so ugly and unable to take care of its own poop.

Yifan then giggled quietly, because it was funny to compare their lives to a princess fairy tale.

When they arrived at his aunt’s place; a green double-storey bungalow by the beach, a man in his early forties was already waiting in the porch, waving at them. A boy with fair skin and droopy eyes was running excitedly from the house, watching his step as he came down the stairs and towards the car.

Yifan secretly thought the mere sight of his black jet hair and deep dimples were already breath-taking.

“Yifan-ge!” he shouts, and crashed his face into Yifan’s chest. It was his first time meeting Yixing face to face, and honestly, Yifan was never good in treating people younger than him. Fidgeting, he then awkwardly enveloped his arms around Yixing’s shoulders and returned the hug. Their parents were awing at the sight, not really seeing how bad Yifan was trembling when their skins touched.

Yixing then let him go and turned around as his mother called for him. He told Yifan to wait and ran towards his mother, and Yifan disliked the sudden loss of warmth from his arms.

“I’m leaving first. Thanks for having me today, auntie, uncle,” a boy with dark brown hair then appeared from behind the front door, bowing at Yixing’s parents and walked towards Yixing.

“I’ll see you at school. Thanks for the book,” he said, smiling at Yixing with his high cheekbones pushing his eyes smaller. Yifan saw the big blue, hard covered book inside the boy’s hands as he passed by him, and chortled. He remembered Yixing mailing the book to him last year, and he ended up returning the book with a letter that kept on asking Yixing why he has a book like that when he’s only eight years old.

“Hey,” he called the boy out, and he turned around. His eyes were dark and brilliantly full, twinkling as he looked up to Yifan. Yifan was hesitating for a few seconds because he didn’t think he could break this boy’s heart by giving him spoilers about the book when he looked so hopeful like that.

“Yes?”

“Your name?” he asked with his broken Hangul, trying to calm his heart down and rethink his decision. The boy smiled and answered.

“Kim Junmyeon.”

He took a deep breath, and let out a smile. The boy blinked thrice.

“It’s a good book, that book. Enjoy.”

The boy nodded confusedly, and went home.

-

Yifan was the one who opened the door when Chanyeol rang the bell. Junmyeon was now snoring on his back, and he didn’t really want to wake him up just to ask about this tall stranger that was wearing Sehun’s t-shirt leisurely _(he knew because it was a little bit tight on him)_ inside his house.

“Who’re you?” Yifan asked, somehow not comfortable seeing Junmyeon sleeping happily on a stranger’s back.

 _“Who’re you?”_ Chanyeol returned the question, pushing Yifan aside as he walked through the threshold. He believed this tall stranger in front of him was more obligated to answer the question than he was. Yifan stood with his arms crossed after he closed the door behind him, face scrunched as he saw Chanyeol throwing his bag onto the couch he was sleeping earlier and walked straight towards Junmyeon’s bedroom.

“Excuse me! Hey!” Yifan finally yelled when the tall guy that looked like a ruffian opened the door without hesitation, as if he was already at home. Chanyeol didn’t stop because even though his senior was not a big man, Junmyeon’s weight was already crushing on him while he was climbing the stairs to the apartment, and he had no intention to worsen his aching vertebrae. Setting Junmyeon down on his bed, Chanyeol was amazed that he didn’t wake up the whole walk back to his apartment. He then palmed Junmyeon’s forehead, trying to read his temperature when his hand was suddenly slapped away strongly by someone.

“What’s your problem, man??” he erupted in anger as he turned around to face whoever this stranger might be. Although after a few seconds, Chanyeol was palming his mouth and almost jump in excitement like a fan boy in action.

“No way!” he screamed, and Yifan had to drag him forcefully out of the room to stop him from waking Junmyeon up. Yifan rolled his eyes when Chanyeol pulled his hand and shook it vigorously.

“Kris Wu! I’m meeting Kris Wu personally—what, wait what are you doing here anyways? Are you a friend of Junmyeon hyung or something? But he didn’t say anything about you earlier—” Chanyeol was hyperventilating, and Yifan thought this dude really needs to calm the fuck down.

 _Finally, someone who seems to know who I am;_ Yifan wanted to cry it out but he caught himself in the last minute. Instead, he put a finger to his lips, signalling to Chanyeol that he didn’t want the already oblivious Junmyeon to know who he really was. The tall guy (not that they’re any different in heights, though) pitched his left eyebrow higher and nodded confusedly.

“Who’re you, really?” he asked again after Chanyeol had calmed down and they were sitting almost quietly at the old sofa in the living room, glancing few times over Sehun’s slightly opened door and Junmyeon’s shivering silhouette. The wind was passing through the thin walls of the house as it always did, and Yifan assumed that everyone in this house didn’t seem to be bothered by it.

“Park Chanyeol. I’m Junmyeon hyung’s hoobae since from high school until university. We’re in the same major,” Chanyeol explained, still a little bit ecstatic but he tried to keep his voice lowered and Yifan appreciated that. His wide smile still hadn’t worn off his face yet, and Yifan would like to compliment him for the perfect set of teeth he had _(but he didn’t)_. Chanyeol’s long fingers were dancing and click-clacking around the white porcelain cup he had inside his hands; nervous and probably in a mild panic attack as he was being watched _(almost)_ intensely by the up-and-coming foreign actor across the table in front of him. He thought he was being judged for his fashion sense _(which was not the best of the bunch, he acknowledged)_. Little did he know that Yifan couldn’t care less even if he was wearing a transparent raincoat above his birthday suit.

“Is he always like this, that Kim Junmyeon?”

“Like what, you mean?”

“Coming home on some stranger’s back,” Yifan huffed exasperatedly, and Chanyeol was dumbfounded because;

  1. He’s definitely far from a stranger to Junmyeon;
  2. Yifan still hadn’t explained what a movie star like him is doing in this small apartment and wearing Sehun’s shirt;
  3. He thought he smelled jealousy dripping all over Yifan’s strings of words whenever Junmyeon was mentioned.



“I’m not sure if he’s already like this when Yixing hyung was still around, but I’ve never seen him being carried by anyone else except me and Sehun. He does have a weak body so he tend to passes out from times to times.” Chanyeol answered earnestly, ignoring the small queries he had inside his mind. Yifan breathed in.

“Yixing...?”

“He was Junmyeon hyung’s best friend. Well, at least that’s what people _called_ them,” Chanyeol paused, took a sip of coffee from the cup inside his hands and let out a relieved sigh. Yifan wanted to wait patiently for him to continue his story, but he took longer than expected so Yifan initiated another question.

“What about what people _didn’t_ call them?” Yifan came out not so subtly, and Chanyeol’s eyes dimmed.

“ _Soul mates?_ Brothers... twins born out of different wombs.” Chanyeol whispered quietly that if Yifan didn’t know well enough, he would have thought the tall lad in front of him was trying to spread out a gossip about a past Junmyeon wanted to keep hidden. But he wasn’t. Yifan knew dozens of people like Chanyeol. They’re sincere, trustful and gullible, and they didn’t get to be on the stage too often for those traits. Some were left stranded by their agents after they had paid a lofty sum to help them pick up their dreams, but they’re still hoping for a chance.

_(Yifan secretly wished he was like Chanyeol)_

“What happened?” Yifan poked him, wanting him to continue on with his story. Chanyeol smiled softly, and Yifan wondered why didn’t any of the scouting agents grab this kid by the collar and put him on magazine covers yet.

“ _‘He became the sea,’_ I would love to tell you that, because that’s what Junmyeon hyung wants to believe. But no. Zhang Yixing did not, as poetically put by hyung; _turned into ocean._ He was lost at sea on his birthday.” Chanyeol bit his lip, feeling a tad guilty for breaking the illusion Junmyeon had tried enough to put on since the day Yixing was declared to be another victim of the ocean. Yifan held his breath, even though he was not supposed to do so, because he knew. He knew that this was the same Yixing they’re talking about.

The same Yixing who had been occupying his mind since he saw the deep dimples and black jet hair more than ten years ago. The same Yixing with chirpy voice who had his own way of expressing his thoughts into words (of starfish and mermaid).

They’re talking about the same Yixing.

They’re missing the same starfish.

“I don’t like the way he was gone though, just like that. I don’t like the reason to why he’s lost at sea.” Chanyeol’s voice was suddenly firm, and Yifan was pulled back into reality from tracing Yixing’s sleeping face with his fingers inside his mind. Chanyeol sounded scary; not in a way a ghost story would be, but in a way you turned to a page of the book that made you choose the endings kind of scary. Unexpected and most of the times, unwanted.

“Why?”

Chanyeol sighed, regretting the words as soon as he finished talking.

“He was only trying to save her,” he said.

“Save who?” Yifan asked.

_“Their mother.”_

Their heads turned when they heard the lamp was switched on inside Junmyeon’s bedroom. Chanyeol blinked thrice when he saw Junmyeon was leaning against the door frame, watching them with a pair of sad eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Junmyeon whispered, and Yifan felt as if the words bounced against the walls and furniture inside the small apartment. He had never heard an apology uttered that was heavy with regrets and cries for atonement like that. Junmyeon fell to his knees, and Chanyeol rushed to his side, grabbing him by the arms and pulled him towards where Yifan was sitting.

“I remember now. And I’m sorry.”

 

_...it breaks my heart to know that there is nothing he can do about it_

 

Yifan’s breath was stuck in his throat, again.

He wished he was reading the book that made you choose the endings. He wished he didn’t choose to turn to this page. And even after he did, he still wished he was reading that book, because if this was that kind of book, he would return to the previous page he was on, and choose the other ending.

In which he would answer the phone calls from his PA and Byun Baekhyun, return to Canada and not crashing at Kim Junmyeon’s place.

_(because just like how Yixing’s dimples and black jet hair was haunting him whenever they weren’t together, the kid who was walking away with Yixing’s Little Mermaid book had appeared in his dreams now and then)_


	6. A Star(fish) Lost

Sehun didn’t get to attend his own junior high graduation.

He didn’t even have the time to remember he had one. For all he knew, that Monday morning when most of his classmates were grinning on the stage, uniforms neatly pressed and younger admirers were slipping love notes into their pockets, he was spending it in the hallway of a ward.

“She’s calmed down, but for now I suggest you let her have her rest first. Go home, get some sleep and come back later in the afternoon, okay? If anything comes up, I’ll call you, Junmyeon,” the tall doctor inside a dark, mossy green turtle neck with stethoscope hanging from his neck told them as he patted Junmyeon’s shoulder. He didn’t wear the usual white coat, though. Sehun was staring at his slicked thick black hair, following the movement of a few strands of loose fringe with his eyes when the doctor turned his gaze towards him.

“She’ll be alright,” he reassured, ruffling Sehun’s hair and let out a small smile. Sehun thought this was the first time he ever met with a warm doctor like this, and somehow it lessened his worries a little bit.

Junmyeon thanked the doctor and put his arm around Sehun’s bony shoulders, pulling him out towards the main entrance of the ward. He was biting his lower lip, brows knitted. His forehead was wrinkled, and Sehun thought his brother looked ten times older than he really was. Junmyeon had been wearing the same expression since this morning when he found their mother unconscious inside the shower, red blood flowing from the deep cuts on her wrists.

He remembered Junmyeon calling for his name, asking him to call the ambulance while he lifted the woman out from the shower and into the living room; Sehun wondered how strong his brother really was despite his small frame. He also remembered the curses Junmyeon let out unconsciously for their father who left just two nights before with a lady by his side—younger and taller and prettier and everything that was not their mother anymore.

Junmyeon did curse a lot, but that was the first time Sehun heard him cursed furiously.

“I’m sorry, hyung,” Sehun breathed out once they were a few metres away from the main gate of the hospital. It was nine in the morning and the street vendors along the town road were only opening up for business, and Sehun could hear his stomach starting to growl. Junmyeon flinched a little and stopped dragging his feet; clearly Sehun’s apology wasn’t expected.

“Why are you apolo—Sehun, this isn’t your fault. It’s not anyone’s fault.”

“But father left... and he’s _my_ father. I’m sorry that he’s my father. I’m sorry he married mother and makes her suffer _... I’m sorry,_ ” Sehun said mindlessly, and he hated how he couldn’t stop his shoulders from shaking. He might have started crying because he could feel Junmyeon’s arm gotten tighter around him.

“He’s mother’s husband, Sehun-ah. Okay, he’s your father and mother married the wrong man, but she gave birth to the right one. God, Sehun, I could never trade you for anything else,” Junmyeon hugged him tighter, and Sehun could feel warm breath blowing on his scalp. It was heavy and stuttered, and that was how Sehun knew Junmyeon was holding in his tears.

“Sehun, it’s no one’s fault. Things happened. Parents separated, and sometimes... even mothers aren’t strong enough to face it. Sometimes mothers forgot that they’re mothers before wives... they just forgot. Humans are like that, Sehun-ah.” Junmyeon finished, probably out of words, but surely out of breath. Sehun nodded solemnly and was about to wipe his tears when he heard a voice called out both their names.

“I went to the ward but you guys weren’t there. I couldn’t see your mother either since I’m not a family...” Yixing was cycling hastily and trying to speak at the same time that by the time he got to their side, he was breathless and sweating profusely, even in this weather.

Sehun could never forget how Junmyeon’s face lit up the moment Yixing was beaming next to them. He could also feel how his own cheeks reddened when Yixing handed him a chocolate bar and a bottle of strawberry milk on their way home from the hospital, wishing him “happy graduation day, my loveable dongsaeng. We’ll get the pictures taken later today, okay?”

Sehun didn’t get to attend his own junior high graduation.

He didn’t even have the time to remember he had one. For all he knew, that Monday morning when most of his classmates were grinning on the stage, uniforms neatly pressed and younger admirers were slipping love notes into their pockets, he was spending it in the hallway of a ward.

But somebody else remembered, and celebrated it with him.

And his brother subtly told him that he is going to be loved, forever.

Sehun thought that was the greatest graduation gift ever.

_-_

However, Sehun’s only fault was for inheriting his father’s physical appearance.

“I hope you die!” their mother screamed the next day when he came to visit. He was carrying a full basket of oranges and apples – the nice old fruit seller ahjumma gave it to him as he walked past her stall this morning, telling him to be careful and send her regards to her – and was stunned when a glass flew by his ear, missing only a few inches away from his face and shattered to pieces when it hit the half-opened door behind him. Junmyeon who was trying hard to hold her still and calm her down in her bed with a couple of nurses was shouting for Sehun to “move away! Sehun-ah, get out now!” but it was only when Yixing pulled him away that Sehun did as he was told.

“Are you hurt?” he could hear Yixing asked him after the door behind them was shut with a bang, voice panicked when Sehun did nothing but staring blankly into his face. Sehun could feel Yixing’s hands palming his cheeks, turning his face left and right, slightly trembling. It didn’t take him long to realise that he was the one who trembled violently. He could hear Yixing sighed, took away the basket he had in his hand and placed it on the waiting bench behind him.

“It’s good you’re okay, Sehunnie. I’m relieved,” Yixing whispered as he took Sehun by the shoulders and wrapped his arms around the younger’s body. Yixing’s breath lingered on his forehead, hands patting his back, trying to speak something that his mouth was unable to convey.

_‘it’s okay, dongsaeng. I’m in shock, too._

_It’s okay, you can cry now. Hyung’s here.’_

Sehun didn’t have the slightest idea of what was on Yixing’s mind, but he wanted to hear those words spoken out loud _(it was a bit selfish, but he didn’t really care)_ , so he buried his face deeper into Yixing’s jumper and cried until his pubescent voice turned coarse.

“Does she hate me now, hyung?” he asked, words muffled against the fabric. Yixing’s hands were now clutching his skinny forearms, rubbing it up and down, and probably trying his damnedest to comfort him.

“She’s not... she’s just tired, Sehun. She’s just, you know, letting off some steam,” Yixing told him with a small smile, but of course Sehun didn’t believe him. Yixing was never good at lying. Not with those honest frowns and those twitching lips. But Sehun decided that it wasn’t Yixing’s fault that he had to lie to a kid.

_Circumstances_

Sehun decided this was the right time to really understand what that word meant. Circumstances made his mother hate him, circumstances made him cry, and those circumstances created another circumstance that forced Yixing to lie to him.

_Circumstances... he could learn to live with it_

“Hey,” Junmyeon called them once he came out from their mother’s ward ten minutes later, long after Sehun’s tears dried up _(but Yixing still didn’t let him go)_. His hair was ruffled, glasses askew, and the grey jumper he put on since yesterday evening was crumpled at the elbows and waist. He looked like he didn’t get enough sleep, waiting for their mother the whole night. Sehun suddenly remembered about Junmyeon’s change of clothes he brought from home that he packed in his knapsack. He pulled away from Yixing, took off his knapsack and was about to give it to Junmyeon when his brother rushed towards him and pulled him into his embrace.

It didn’t feel embarrassing when Yixing did it earlier, because Sehun was crying. But this time, now that he was all sobered up, Sehun could feel his cheeks crimsoning and he really would like to tell Junmyeon that he was not a kid anymore _(but Yixing heard him crying just now and he couldn’t deny it so he thought maybe he is still a kid to both of his hyungs)._

“I’m here, okay. Things might get rough in the future, and I can’t promise you it’ll get better, but I’m here. You have me, Sehun-ah. You got me, okay? So don’t be sad,” Junmyeon’s words sounded cheesy and too corny and Sehun wanted him to stop, but he could feel his brother’s trembling hands on his neck. For a moment, Junmyeon suddenly seemed all grown up that Sehun had forgotten his brother had only just graduated from middle school.

“You have me too, hyung. Okay?” Sehun comforted him when Junmyeon himself began to sniffle, one hand fixing his hair and the other patting his back. Yixing was looking at them both from the side, smiling softly but probably wondering whether they’re strong enough to face the world with just the two of them.

“Feels like I’ve been left out or something,” he finally said once the brothers calmed down, and Junmyeon smacked his head.

“Stop interfering with other’s family affairs, Zhang Yixing.” Junmyeon said it as if he was joking, but they all knew he wasn’t. And Yixing was also dead serious when he replied later.

“I’m no stranger, Kim Junmyeon. Don’t you try drawing the line now. We’ve been together for God knows how long, and we’re _bubble buddies_ , remember?” he said, but Junmyeon urgently giving him the signs to shut his mouth, eyes darted between him and Sehun. Maybe there were some secrets between them, Sehun figured. But being _bubble buddies_ sounded interesting and not knowing about it felt like being secluded of something big.

“I’m craving for some ice cream. What do you say, Sehunnie?” Sehun felt like laughing to Yixing’s desperate attempt at changing the subject, but since he chose to bait him with ice cream, there’s nothing he could do about it. Ice cream is, after all, his softest spot. So he nodded, and had his hand pulled by Yixing almost instantly. Junmyeon refused to come along, since the doctors were still checking up on their mother and he wanted to be there to listen to their medical diagnoses once they’re done. He turned around to find Junmyeon was already sitting tiredly on the waiting bench, head buried inside his hands.

“Hyung, I brought your clothes,” he half-yelled, and threw his knapsack into Junmyeon’s lap. Junmyeon caught it just in time before it falls onto the floor, and cursed him for yelling inside the hallway of a hospital.

But Junmyeon was smiling, so Sehun figured that they’ll be just fine. Yixing’s grip felt warmer and tighter and a bit tender than how it usually felt, too, and Sehun thought how lucky they would be if Yixing decided to stay with them until the storm is over.

How lucky _he_ would be.

-

_It wasn’t anyone’s fault._

Sehun was always a good swimmer; nobody was worried about him swimming whenever they went to the beach. He used to swim from the mainland to the nearest island and came back within two hours for a bet with Yixing, and Junmyeon used to hate him for being the reason why they would always overstayed at the beach whenever they went for a picnic.

Junmyeon, on the other hand, hated the beach. Junmyeon hated the sun’s heat on his skin. Junmyeon hated the way his bottom felt on the sand, and he hated it when he compared his white, pale skin to Sehun and Yixing’s tanned ones. He got burnt easily if he forgot his sun cream at home, so whenever they agreed to spend their weekends at the beach, he would spread his favourite towel underneath their umbrella, covered himself up in Yixing’s favourite red hoodie _(Yixing never forget to bring it along and Junmyeon never remember to bring his own)_ and opened one of his favourite books that would always be filled with dog-ears on his favourite chapters.

But Junmyeon never complained too much, because he knew Sehun didn’t like being home, not when their mother kept turning her back towards him and whispered curses for him to die like a chant. It had been three years since their father left the house, and it had been three years since Sehun’s existence being erased inside their mother’s mind.

(“Bastard! You’re going to leave me too one day, just like him! You’re just a bastard about to happen!! Why don’t you just die??! Why don’t you just die??!”)

_Nobody’s fault_

_Circumstances_

Sometimes he would look up from his book and saw Yixing’s slender body was standing in a distance between him and Sehun, who was getting excited every time the tides came crashing _(or was it because Yixing was watching? Junmyeon wasn’t really sure)._ Junmyeon would stare at the way Yixing’s nape reddened by the heat, and most of the time he would imagine how it would feel to have his fingers caressing the warm skin.

_(He then would snap back into the world of fiction that was drawn inside his palms with his cheeks hotter than they should be)_

And then Yixing would come and drag him—Yixing would always drag him out into the scorching sun when Junmyeon was already lost inside the fiction.

“Come on, Junmyeon. You can’t be reading in the shadow when the sun’s this bright. Let’s get some tan on your shoulders!” Yixing would say, one hand grabbing his arm and the other unzipping the hoodie Junmyeon had on, revealing his pale skin and subtly touching his bare chest.

_(It always felt like electric whenever Yixing’s fingers were on his collarbones)_

When Junmyeon finally retrieved his senses back from Yixing’s touch, he was already knee-deep inside the water, hands grabbing tightly onto Yixing’s shoulders and Yixing’s breath was blowing onto his face skin.

“I hate being wet,” he would whisper, and Yixing would laugh before he pulled Junmyeon’s small frame by the waist with one arm and threatened to throw him into the water, which only resulted in Junmyeon’s squeals and tighter grip on him.

_(Sometimes Junmyeon thought Yixing did that on purpose, but he didn’t want to speculate anything that would put him or anyone in an agony when they’re supposed to have fun)_

“I hate you!” Junmyeon would scream, cursing Yixing with all the profanities he ever knew when Yixing finally dumped him into the sea before laughing maniacally. Sehun who was already naturally turning into a fish just a few metres away from them would swim nearer and silently pulled his brother towards the shore. This was why even though he hated him for mindlessly betting with Yixing to decide who was the best swimmer every time they were at the beach, Junmyeon could never be angry at Sehun. He always thought that it was a given Sehun understood him better than anyone else; better than himself.

Even though he was only a second year in middle school by then, Sehun was taller than Junmyeon and definitely well-built. He must’ve inherited the good genes from his father. Junmyeon could only be proud of his brain that he got from his late father, who, according to his mother was a teacher in their local high school; his high school.

“Are you guys going to do that stupid race to the small island again today?” Junmyeon asked him as soon as Sehun pulled him up. Yixing who already arrived by his side by the time the brothers were standing near the shore (damn he was fast) nodded and let out a small smile.

“You know it’s our tradition. Besides, it’s about time I  stop giving him a handicap now that Sehunnie is all grown up,” he teased the boy smugly, and ruffled his wet hair. Junmyeon frowned.

“I hope you wouldn’t. I hate it whenever you guys bet on dangerous things like that,” he said, and Sehun flopped his body onto his hyung’s small back.

“I hope you would stop worrying about everything, hyung. You’re still a high schooler to look like an ahjussi,” he teased, and Junmyeon slapped his arm.

“I’ll take care of him, Junmyeon-ah. I promise,” Yixing would always assure him before they went into the water, and Junmyeon would always believe it because Yixing had never broken the promise even once.

And as always, when they returned that evening, faces burnt and muscles sore, Sehun won the race for the nth time.

-

_It wasn’t anyone’s fault, Junmyeon-ah._

If Yixing was still around, he would say this without hesitating. He would pull him by the shoulders, dipped his nose into his hair and shook his body slightly. He thought Junmyeon wouldn’t know that he was kissing the top of his hair, but Junmyeon always knew. And he always liked it _(but Yixing didn’t know, so he would pull away after a few seconds and Junmyeon would frown a little bit, trying not to be obvious about it)._

_It wasn’t anyone’s fault, so don’t blame yourself, Junmyeon._

But Junmyeon saw how Yifan’s face dropped tonight, and he didn’t think even Yixing’s voice could save him out of his guilt.

-

_“You swim like a mermaid, Sehunnie!” Yixing never fail to tell him, and Sehun never fail to shake his head, denying it._

That night when he had just return home from school _(and a mindless stroll with his classmate, Jongin at the only mall in town)_ , Sehun found himself standing with his face buried inside his hands in front of the door, thinking whether he should enter the house and continued being ignored _(and asked to die, again)_ , or wait until Junmyeon comes home, which would be another two hours of waiting. He then decided to ignore the latter option since he got a small Math test tomorrow and staying out late wouldn’t really help his predicament. Plus, he didn’t want to be nagged by both Junmyeon and Yixing for any unsatisfactory results.

Damn those high-schoolers, acting all parent-ly on him.

“I’m home,” he finally whispered, slowly and cautiously. As it had always been for the past three years, tonight too, there was no reply to his greeting. Sehun sighed – he really didn’t want to count how many times he did that since _this_ became a routine in his life – this silent treatment after buckets of curses and harsh words from a mother that wanted her son to vanish _(she didn’t even want to admit Sehun ever existed anymore)._

 _‘Simply put, it’s a phase,’_ the doctor told them before their mother was released from the ward a few years ago. Junmyeon’s face was hopeful and trusting when he heard the news, it made the doctor felt guilty to directly look at him in the eyes. Fixing his perfectly situated glasses, he cleared his throat a few times and in the end, probably didn’t know what to do with his hands, he had them dived into the front pockets of his white coat.

 _‘But we can’t predict when it’ll be over. It could be days, it could be weeks. Maybe months. Some cases... well, in some cases, it took years. But they got through it... most of them. You need to believe in her.’_ He continued, and Sehun could see Junmyeon’s face fell. He usually hid it pretty well, but this time it seemed like he wasn’t ready for it. Sehun could see the doctor scratching the back of his nape; this time he didn’t ruffle Sehun’s head like he did the other day, and Sehun couldn’t feel any warmth emitted from his face. Sehun figured a few days later that it was his way of telling the brothers that their mother would probably become a lost cause.

Sehun wanted to ask, _‘what happened if she doesn’t get through it?’_ but Junmyeon was already bowing and thanked the doctor before Sehun could even open his mouth. Junmyeon pulled Sehun by the hand until they reached into a corner near the stairs, and bent down, hands palming his knees. Junmyeon looked as if he was about to cry, with the dimples deepened on his chin and the sides of his eyes twitching tremendously, but Sehun could see that he was trying hard not to.

_‘Uhm... go to Yixing’s house and stay there for a while. I’ll get you once I’m done with the bill. I’ve called him and he said he’s cool with it.’_

_‘...is mother going to be okay, hyung?’_ Sehun asked him, but Junmyeon didn’t answer. His dark orbs were looking into Sehun’s eyes, but it took him a moment to realise that Junmyeon wasn’t really there. He was somewhere else with the stars, probably out of this galaxy. He might be looking for the alternate universe where he wasn’t the first son of a broken family, their father actually stayed and their mother didn’t turn into a mad woman.

_‘Just... go to Yixing’s, okay?’_

And Sehun remembered why he tried so hard for his tests. He didn’t like the way Junmyeon was trying hard to smile when his eyes were begging to pour down tears.

“Sehun? You’re home?” Sehun’s mind was pulled back into the silent house when a voice; so gentle yet so foreign greeted him as he was reaching for the doorknob to his own room. It had been years since he heard his name being called like that, it sent goose bumps up till the ends of his hair.

“Mo—mother?”

“Hmm?” Sehun could hear her answering it with a hum, and instead of proceeding to twist the doorknob open, he turned around and found his mother walking out from the kitchen with a pot of freshly cooked seaweed soup, all smiling and not even a bit hint of anger drawn on her face.

_It had been so long, and Sehun was afraid that this was all just an illusion_

“What are you waiting for? Put down your bag and come here for dinner,” she called, not even looking at her son as she was busy arranging the pot to sit in the middle of the small round table with five to six side dishes surrounding it. Sehun, not knowing what to do, left his knapsack leaning outside his bedroom door, and dragged his feet cautiously towards the small dining space.

“Mother?” he called again, still thinking that this was just some sort of a dream. But the woman was there, looking at him like he was the only beautiful thing to be looked at in the world. Her smile was soft, and she wasn’t calling him a bastard—for God’s sake, it had been forever since the last time she called him by his name.

“Yes, dear?” she answered, hands reaching for the rice bowl and started scooping steamy rice into it. Sehun worried on his lower lip, trying to get everything lined up inside his head. He wanted to ask her if she was okay, if she had finally realised that it wasn’t Sehun who hurt her, but Sehun was afraid. He was terrified with the possible consequences that he might trigger something that his mother wanted to forget. So instead, he took away the wooden ladle inside his mother’s hand and told her to sit down.

“It’s okay, mother, I’ll do it. You must’ve worked hard to prepare all these dishes for us,” he said with a genuine smile; a smile that only came after a hard time supressing his happiness, shock, and possibly fears.

“Aigoo... thank you my darling. My son has grown so much, you’re looking more and more like your...” she stopped, palmed her mouth with one hand and chuckled. Sehun was frozen in his stance.

_No, please don’t—_

Sehun looked up, and found his mother was staring at him with a blank gaze.

“Mother...?”

“Let’s eat before the foods get cold. I’ve saved some for Junmyeon to eat once he’s home, so you eat all you can, Sehun-ah,” she said, shaking her laugh off and smiled. God, how Sehun missed seeing that smile. Their conversation died after that; Sehun too busy weeping while eating his dinner and his mother too immersed in admiration watching him – as if she had lost him once and found him again, and this time, she wasn’t going to let him go.

-

Sehun was woken in the middle of the night with a pepper kiss on his right temple.

He opened his eyes half the eyelids, struggling to see in the darkness that enveloped his bedroom, except for the silent lightning outside the window. The grumble sound of the sky being torn became audible six and a half seconds later, and Sehun jumped in his bed; not because of the sound, not really – it’s a part of the reason but not quite it. Sehun jumped awake because his mother, dressed in her favourite yellow pyjamas was sitting on the edge of his old bed.

She was smiling, but she was sad.

“Mother? What’s the matter?” Sehun asked sleepily, one hand fisted and rubbed on his itchy left eye. His words were cautious still; he hadn’t been so sure whether she’s really rebounded from her phase. He hadn’t contacted Junmyeon about it either; worried that his brother might be too excited and messed up his part-time job.

“Mother?” he tried once again, this time his voice wasn’t teetering at the edge of uncertainty. He called her like he usually did before, and it personally felt nostalgic of him to get the chance to call her again without being told to piss off.

“I’m sorry, Sehun. I’m a bad mother. I’m sorry,” she said, one hand crowning over Sehun’s bed hair, wanting to smooth them down but hesitated to do so. It was almost like she was questioning her rights to touch his son after years telling him to cease off of his existence.

Sehun didn’t want her to feel that way. It wasn’t her fault, just like what Junmyeon and Yixing kept on telling him all these years. Parents separated, people fell out of love – it’s common occurrence. Sometimes people are strong to face it, most of the times not. She wasn’t strong enough, Sehun decided. She wasn’t strong enough and it wasn’t her fault either. Because everyone is different.

“Circumstances...” he started, not really knowing where he was going with it. It’s funny how we made things sound so clear when the mind was still in a jumble working its way to get through it. Sehun placed his hand onto his mother’s lap, and pressed his fingers subtly into her flesh, looking for an inspiration. Hopefully it was there.

“Circumstances make us decide, mother. And sometimes, our decisions don’t go very well. You decided to marry him, and you guys decided that I should be born. Junmyeon hyung decided that he’s going to love me if I’m good at study, and Yixing hyung... funny, he never tell why he sticks around,” he giggled, eyes getting wider at every thunder that boomed and shook the atmosphere.

“But circumstances made father decide that we’re not worth his time, and to that I say screw him. He made a bad one. But I don’t blame you, mother. Before anything else, before a mother or a wife abandoned by her bastard husband, you’re a woman. And I have a feeling that not all women are strong. You happened to be one of them, that’s all.” He finished, and his mother seemed to be in awe listening to how wonderful her boy had become. How thoughtful and real, brutally honest but never out of love for everyone.

How lucky she was to have wonderful sons like these, and she didn’t think she deserved them.

It was almost five minutes of them palming each other’s hands, speaking words and expressions kept hidden in these three years of her not finding her own feet in real world, and him only tugging on his brothers’ shirts, begging for a mother’s attention.

“Yeah... so you be good now, okay? Listen to Junmyeon, and be good. God, you gave me such beautiful kids,” she finally said, one hand finally soothed down Sehun’s bed hair. Sehun nodded and invited her to sleep in his bed, because to be honest, he didn’t like the fierce weather. He hoped Junmyeon brought an umbrella with him.

“I’m going now,” she replied, shaking her head and planted another soft kiss on his nose. Sehun felt the warmth flowing up from his nape to his cheeks – he’s already too grown to be treated like this, but he still wanted it. Three years of affection was taken away from him, he had all the rights to enjoy everything he had been fighting for now.

“I’m going now...” he heard his mother whispered again once she reached the door, turning around to take one last look at him, and disappeared behind the wall.

Sehun, however, felt like something was off, so he couldn’t get back to sleep. The rain started to fall, not heavy, just dribbling lightly onto the already cold earth, but the thunders were fierce still, and the wind was getting a little bit harsher. He kicked away his duvet and wore his slippers, hugging himself as he walked towards the door, cold. The heater had broken down almost two weeks ago, and the heat didn’t spread evenly across the rooms. Junmyeon was working hard to get it fixed and Yixing offered to pay for the repair fee, but they wouldn’t take his kindness for granted. That brother should stay calm for a while.

“Mother?” he called, as he saw the door to her bedroom across the living room was wide open. No signs of her present in there, though. The old radio she loved was only blaring out statics; it always did even when it was only lightly raining.

Sehun blinked twice, swallowing something sharp inside his throat. _Horror movies usually had scenes like this;_ he pondered mindlessly, and then shook his head.

“What horror?” he whispered to the empty space, holding in the urge to smack himself on the head. Reaching the power source, he turned off the plug and pulled it out from the socket. He then scanned the whole room, went out to the living room just in case his mother was sleeping on the couch and then started to panic when she wasn’t in the bathroom or the kitchen either.

“Mother??” his voice echoed throughout the house – no replies. The rain was still a dribble, and the thunder had tone down a bit, and the silence was creeping in that Sehun could hear his own heartbeat getting faster and heavier.

_I’m going now_

Her words suddenly became a steel knife inside his windpipe. Sehun glanced over the front door – it’s unlocked. He hesitated for a while whether he should grab his phone and call Junmyeon when his brother, all wet and breathless from running swung the door open.

“This kid... leaving the door unlocked... Yah!” Junmyeon nags turned into a surprised blabber when Sehun sprang towards him, clutching his hyung by the shoulders.

“Mother! Hyung, mother!! She said she’s going—and, and I...”

_Be good now, Sehun_

He paused; eyes widened to their limit and looked into Junmyeon’s clueless face.

“What’s with mother? Sehun-ah? What’s wrong with mother??” he asked, starting to panic when Sehun palmed his own head and desperately grunted.

“She’s... she’s going to leave... she’s going to leave!” Sehun yelled, pushing Junmyeon aside and ran out, zig-zagging in the dribble and ignoring the thunders. Junmyeon who chased after him yelled for his name but Sehun didn’t stop.

He’s only got her back today. Wouldn’t it be too much to lose her again?

“Mother!” he screamed out for her at the top of her lung. Some closed windows that he passed were opened slightly, eyes peeking into the night rain and curses flowed from the residents’ mouth.

_These kids again_

_Their mother should’ve just die_

_They should’ve just leave here_

It’s not like it’s never happened before. Fair numbers of stones were thrown at Sehun in the public by her, chasing him away and beating him up with anything she could find. At first, there were pities, but when it happened again later, people started to get bored. No one stopped her anymore, people were calling her crazy. Sehun was in pain when she did all that, but it was the worst when people are blaming her for something she couldn’t control.

“Mother!” he yelled again, this time in sync with Junmyeon’s voice. They were drenched to the bones, and he was running in front of the only 24 hours convenience store in that small town when he ran into someone and almost fell to the ground. Strong grips from the guy in his dark red hoodie and rainbow umbrella prevented that.

“Sehunnie? What are you doing out here in the rain?? You’ve got a test tomorrow!” he asked, somehow his Korean became thick and awkward in some places, but Sehun didn’t have time to comment on that. Yixing almost cursed when Junmyeon arrived to Sehun’s side a few seconds later; both drenched, face worried and mostly mumbled out incoherent words. The only thing he caught was ‘mother,’ ‘gone,’ and ‘not here’.

“When?” he asked, and Sehun said just now. Yixing pursed his lips and his dimples were awakened on the sides of his lips. Sehun wanted to compliment how nice they looked like but alas, this was definitely not the right time.

“Let’s find her,” he said, and ignored Junmyeon’s “No!” from behind as he pulled Sehun’s hand and threw his umbrella towards Junmyeon.

“You go home now, and get changed. You’ve just gotten better from your fever, Junmyeon, I don’t want you to die. Wait for her at home, okay?” he told Junmyeon, and Sehun wondered if that was the only reason, and his heart felt prickly.

“I’m going to take care of Sehun, Junmyeon.” He said again, reassuring.

“We’ll find her, Sehunnie. Don’t worry, okay?” he tried to comfort the younger boy, but Sehun could only hum as a reply, feet splash-sploshed against the pools of water on the street.

-

They found her by the beach; exactly at the same spot they were having their picnic just a week ago. She was shoeless, hair let down and body shivering violently. Her eyes were lifeless as she dipped her feet into the freezing water, steadily but slowly immersing herself into the ocean.

“Eommonie!” Yixing yelled, trying his best to keep up with Sehun’s lightning speed. He unzipped his hoodie as soon as he saw Sehun yelling like a crazy kid, jumping carelessly into the ocean when his mother’s head was the only thing visible in the raging wave.

“Sehun!!” Yixing called when a big wave rolled over the younger boy’s head, pulling him further into the middle of the ocean. Yixing jumped after he threw aside his hoodie with a shoe still attached to his left foot; his arms ached as he was swimming against the tides. Sehun was almost sinking by the time he pulled him by the neck, and dragged him to the beach.

“You idiot! This isn’t our usual race! You could’ve died!” he slapped him into consciousness, rubbing his chest and kept him awake. Sehun coughed violently as he sat up, trying to get past Yixing and towards his mother.

“I can save her! You said I can swim so I’m going to save her! Let me go, hyung!” he said, crying and most probably didn’t even see how Yixing’s face twisted in front of him. Yixing palmed his cheeks, and shushed him silent with a kiss on his nose.

“Yes you can, and you’re brilliant. You’ve done well, and you must be tired. So wait here, Sehunnie. Hyung’s going to save her, okay?” Yixing said, and Sehun could only watch as he touched the place where Yixing was kissing him earlier. Yixing felt warm and safe, and Sehun was getting calmer, sitting breathlessly in the rain.

He watched as Yixing pulled away the shoe on his left foot, and dived into the sea. His back looked smaller as he was getting farther, and Sehun reminded himself to give Yixing a hug later _(or anything that he wanted from him later, anything at all)._

If only he knew five hours later some fishermen would find his mother's cold, hard and lifeless body inside their net with a small piece of Yixing’s black shirt that he wore then. If only he knew Yixing’s face would be on the news for the weeks after that as another victim of the sea.

If only he knew that his hyung would cry until his eyes hurt for Yixing more than for their mother.

If only he knew,

 

_\--he wouldn’t let Yixing to kiss him just on the nose._


	7. There Was A Storm

“It was his birthday,” Yifan whispered—he wasn’t sure if it was for himself or for anyone else to hear, one arm covering his face as he stretched his body flat onto the couch, legs dangling on the other end and the other arm tucked underneath his own weight. The lights were already off, except for the single yellow bulb in the living room where he was. Chanyeol had asked to be excused almost an hour ago, after Junmyeon’s sobs were quietened and Yifan finally made an expression on his face. Poor lad. He wasn’t even well-versed of the relationships between everyone, and he was still star-struck with Yifan’s presence in the small, decaying apartment to ask any better.

“It was his birthday,” he repeated, trying to make sense of the words he spoke to himself rather than trying to make it clear to someone’s ears. The ticking of the round, yellow wall clock hung above the television was so vividly clear he could almost see the hands moved inside his head; fidgety but surely knows what to be expected of them in this world. It was already 2.53 in the morning.

_Time._

Yifan shut his eyes so tightly, he could hear his eyelids squashed and crinkled against each other. He wondered if he wasn’t born with the luck of time written in his book of fortune.

He was a few minutes late from cram school when his mother was beaten half-dead by his father just because she was asking for the money she needed for the house rent. When Yifan was finally home, saw his mother unconscious in the living room and reaching for the meat knife in the kitchen, he was ready for a time in juvenile for slicing his bastard father to pieces. Too bad his father had already escaped through the back door, so he put down the knife and called for help.

Blood was all over her face when he tried to hold her; broken nose, busted lips, swollen eyes. Her hands were limping by her sides, and Yifan was so scared he would hurt her worse if he ever touched her.

She died the next morning anyways.

Yifan was on his way back to the hospital after changing his clothes and having his breakfast. He was exchanging emails on his phone with Yixing, trying not to let him know about his situation here when it’s almost midnight in South Korea, but their conversation was cut off on his side when a call came in, urging him to be back at the hospital as soon as he could.

He was only a few minutes late when the doctors announced her time of death. It was 10.47 in the morning, and it just wasn’t a time for the world to be so vexing to live in.

The same thing happened with Yixing a few years after that.

Yifan received Yixing’s first handwritten letter of confession just a day after his first modelling job was renewed from a part-time to a full-time contract; he gained a new house, a manager and somehow a budding fan club, managed by his long-time fans from high school. He didn’t even have the time to tell Yixing about it that night when he urgently made the long-distance call to Busan. Instead of receiving Yixing’s cheerful congratulations like the one he had been playing again and again inside his mind, he was met with long sighs, disappointed _‘okay’_ and insincere _‘thanks’_. He remembered being so scared that Yixing would cut off the conversation midway, ignoring his concern _(was it really a concern, anyways?)_ and being angry with him for the rest of his life. But Yixing didn’t, and Yifan knew he wouldn’t do that to anyone. Long after the conversation was over, Yifan smiled apologetically to himself, drinking alone in the kitchen of his new apartment, surrounded by unpacked boxes.

Wrapped up inside his own personal bubble that he created, Yifan felt the loneliness was crushing on him for the first time.

He forgot to tell Yixing about his job, or the new house.

Talk about bad timing.

-

“Are you here to kill me?” a pair of feet was shuffling against the floor, and Yifan didn’t have to tear his eyes open to figure out who it belonged to. The nearest couch next to him squeaked and rustled as someone settled in it. That made him sat up from the couch he lied in, twisted his body halfway around, and he could hear soft gasps escaped from someone’s lips.

“Do you want me to kill you?”

“No...”

“Then don’t ask that question,” he shot Junmyeon down, eyes looking at everything that were present on Junmyeon except his face. He didn’t want to see Junmyeon’s sad face, or his red, puffy eyes, or his pale lips. He didn’t want to see the unorganised fringe on his forehead _(because for some reasons he wanted to push it away and that would mean being closer to Junmyeon, and being closer to Junmyeon right now would mean... something, right?)_

“Then... are you angry with me?”

Yifan thought for a moment, hummed, and let out a small sigh.

“No, surprisingly I am not.”

He looked up, and find Junmyeon was trying hard to not to look at him, too.

“I don’t think he would want me to do any harm towards you, Kim Junmyeon.”

“Then...why are you here?” Junmyeon asked again, this time instead of regret, curiosity was edging around his voice. Yifan chortled and bent his left leg inside, tucking it underneath his long body.

Curious little hamster, this Kim Junmyeon.

“Why were you apologising?” he retorted, refused to give in without a fight. It felt as if a strong mental war was happening, but either Junmyeon was too tired or too shallow to realise about it, or Yifan was too absorbed in fighting in the war alone.

“Yixing. You’re here for him, aren’t you? You’re here for his anniversary.”

“His birthday.” Yifan said matter-of-factly, and Junmyeon seemed taken aback with his answer.

“And his...” Junmyeon wanted to continue, but something caught his tongue. A bitter memory, it seemed. Yifan shook his head, left palm briefly caressing over his own flawless left cheek as he was reminded about his night skincare. Okay, fine. He’ll do it later. Another soft gasp escaped from Junmyeon’s lips, but this time he wasn’t sure what it was for.

“Do you remember the question I asked you last night, before you went to work?” he cut Junmyeon off, eyes still wandering everywhere other than Junmyeon’s eyes. He could see Junmyeon’s shoulders slightly moving as he nodded slowly; fingers pinching each other, knees side by side. There were three minutes of silence, and in these three minutes Yifan finally realised how pale Junmyeon’s skin was. There were always red blotches spread across his nose and cheeks; the colder the weather was, the clearer it appeared. Green and purple veins were crawling up the back of his palms, seemingly out of place when compared to his sweet, young face; a result of too many jobs done since his teenage year. He was suddenly reminded of Yixing’s emails, whining and asking opinions if he should find a part-time job too so that he could help Junmyeon with his life.

Silly kid.

There were old cuts on his thumbs, treated carelessly and some seemed as if they would never really disappear. Mindlessly, he edged closer toward the latter, took both Junmyeon’s hands into his; carefully examining every single line present and clucking his tongue twice when he saw new cuts at the heel of Junmyeon’s right palm. Junmyeon tried to retrieve his hands back, tugging them quite strongly, but to useless result. Yifan shifted his touch into grips at his wrists, turning his palms upward and continued.

“I... was quite careless in the kitchen these last few days,” Junmyeon didn’t know why, but he felt like he was obliged to give Yifan an explanation. Yifan hummed, acknowledging, but still hadn’t let him go.

He didn’t let go of Junmyeon’s hand for a long time.

The ocean’s breeze passed through the small openings of the windows that weren’t tightly shut, filling the small apartment with the salty scent. Except for its soft howling and the ticking of the clock, there was nothing else alive and making sound as their skins were against each other.

“Kris...” Junmyeon finally called his name, and Yifan softly jerked in his seat. By this time, Junmyeon wasn’t trying to break free from him anymore.

_“Yifan-ge.”_

A pair of deep, sweet dimples with a giggle by a chirpy voice once again appeared inside his head, and Yifan finally looked up to Junmyeon, only to be greeted by his dark orbs asking questions that Yifan himself probably was unable to answer.

“Why are you here, Yifan-ge?”

Full lips vaguely appeared before his eyes, but this time, Junmyeon’s red and cracked ones were shadowing it.

“Because I’m a messenger, Junmyeon-ah,” he replied, calling his name softly, so very dearly, as if he wouldn’t want anyone else to know the way he was calling for Junmyeon because it was so _special_ and it was for this person only, and it was Junmyeon’s turn to be startled this time.

It had been a long time since someone called his name this way; _like a beloved_.

For a brief moment, for once after these five years, he realised that he might have lost a way of being loved when Yixing was gone from his side.

-

“Where’s Kris Wu??” Chanyeol didn’t even have the courtesy to announce his arrival the next morning, bringing a bowl of chicken soup he cooked by himself for the still sick Sehun as he barbarically tore the front door open. Junmyeon almost spill the cup of black hot coffee in his hand as he was sitting in front of the television, watching the news before he runs for his morning shift at the convenience store today.

“And where’s your fucking manner??” Junmyeon yelled back, hastily placing his cup onto the table before him and avoiding the risk of wasting his effort to change for another shirt that morning. Chanyeol snorted as he casually walked past his hyung, placed the chicken soup on the dining table and towards Sehun’s room to check on him. Secretly, Junmyeon was thankful that Chanyeol is a giant sweetheart with a lot of love in his every vein. Even though, sometimes he is the vain.

“Gone with your manliness last night,” he quipped, even adding a small sarcastic laughter at the end of the sentence, and Junmyeon rolled his eyes. There was a strong urge to bathe someone with the hot coffee in front of him, but Junmyeon thought about the good things Chanyeol had done for him and finally decided with a heavy heart that he didn’t deserve such cruel treatment _(although Junmyeon was hoping that his humanity would stop being so awake for just a few seconds)._

“Are you sure you’re okay to stay here for a while?” he asked when Chanyeol had already settled down next to him. Sehun’s fever didn’t really get better, but fortunately it didn’t get any worse, either. Junmyeon refused to let him go to school today, in fear that anything might happen if he collapsed, but he wouldn’t be home until 3 in the afternoon, and he wasn’t sure if Kris... _Yifan_ would want to stay after what happened last night—

“Yeah. I just need to feed him, right? I can handle that.”

Junmyeon blinked, getting his head back into the present and nodded to that somewhat nonchalance confirmation, and stood up, picked up his uniform vest that was hung at the back of the couch Chanyeol was lazing in, and was about to reach for his sling bag hung behind his bedroom door when Chanyeol repeated the first question he asked when he entered the apartment earlier.

“Where’s Kris Wu?” Yifan clucked his tongue, frustrated that this kid was still so persistent whenever he wanted something from someone. Whoever said he’s one of the gentlest souls around.

“He’d probably gone home. _Probably_. Who knows? After all, someone famous like that shouldn’t be running loose in a place like this, don’t you think?” he said, voice almost breaking when he finished, as if he was trying too hard to hide his disappointment. To be honest, he wasn’t very pleased to see the couch Yifan was crashing in since yesterday morning to be empty when he woke up just a few hours ago. Yifan didn’t even leave any note to inform him of his departure or whatsoever. Junmyeon had wished that he was a man full of wits and evilness so that he could at least take a picture of Yifan sleeping soundly in his couch, spreading news that they were sleeping together or something.

Not that he wanted to; that was just an example.

“Hyung...?” Chanyeol called for him, and Junmyeon snapped back to reality. Man, he really needed to stop daydreaming.

“What?” he replied rather sharply, and Chanyeol looked as if he was taken aback a little. Scratching the back of his left ear that wasn’t even itchy, he put on an awkward, crooked smile and blinked his huge eyes for a couple of time, and dear gods of every religion ever existed, Junmyeon’s rage or annoyance had always been defeated by that look since Chanyeol mastered it.

“Ugggghhhh what is it Park Chanyeol~” Junmyeon pulled a chair from the dining table and sat down near his curious junior, and he took a moment to spare a glimpse toward his wristwatch; still got 30 minutes for whatever Chanyeol was trying to ask.

“What’s a famous star like him doing in your apartment?”

“Why? I think this house’s perfectly fine; it fits even for a king.” Junmyeon replied wittily with a small smile, secretly hoping that he had indirectly dodge a question from spreading far more than what he could contain. Chanyeol tsked, unimpressed with Junmyeon’s attempt. So he asked again.

“He’s Yixing hyung’s friend or something?” Junmyeon sighed deeply, and shrugged. Of course, Chanyeol left right after he calmed Junmyeon down last night, while Yifan was only sitting and listening and watching him crying until his voice turned coarse for ten minutes _(he thought that was somehow an ass move, but he was crying anyways, and he was pretty sure any guy would be appalled if they had to sooth another crying male. Alas, not everyone is Chanyeol)_. He wasn’t able to pry into anything as Junmyeon recalled hearing Chanyeol’s mother yelling over the speaker last night, ordering him to come home because it was already almost 3 in the morning, and the fact that Junmyeon could count just with the fingers on his hands how many parents in this small town were pleased to know that their kids were friends with these orphaned brothers weren’t much of a help.

“Is that a yes, or a no?” Chanyeol scrunched his face so bad Junmyeon thought it must’ve hurt, but he still wasn’t answering him. Instead, he shrugged once again before he got up and made his way to the door.

“Okay, fine. Don’t answer me. But he is _someone_ to the both of you, right? He knows Yixing hyung, right?”

“Why would it matter to you?”

“I’m just curious since...  I’ve never seen you crying that badly before this,” he sulked, and Junmyeon laughed.

_If only you were there by the beach that dawn they told me Yixing was lost—_

Junmyeon twisted the knob and the door slowly creaked open.

“I’m leaving. If your Kris Wu do comes back later, you feed him too.”

-

There was a tiny grey crab crawling over his left shoe, and Yifan watched it mindlessly as it scrambled to the other side of the shoe. He would like to kick it far and away into the sea, but considering there was no harm done by the innocent creature, he let it walk away safely to wherever it was planning to be. The sky was still a dark blue behind him, but far before his eyes, long into the distance and beyond the rolls of waves on the ocean, the colour faded, replaced by orange and yellow tint that were moulding into each other across the horizon.

Yifan wouldn’t be surprised if someone actually came up to him right then and told him that he looked like a mess. He totally agreed; with his unruly hair all over the place and the bags underneath his eyes almost covering half of his cheeks, no one could’ve guessed that he had just done a press conference about his new movie just a couple of days ago. He wasn’t really sure what had gotten over him last night. He knew that was the same Junmyeon from the start. He knew Chanyeol was talking about the same Yixing; _his Yixing_. He knew, yet when he saw Junmyeon’s tear, he lost his composure.

Somewhere, deep in his soul and beyond his tangled up mind last night, he wished there was another Kim Junmyeon who didn’t have a reason to cry over a bubbly boy named Zhang Yixing. He’d take that Junmyeon anytime.

 

_Take him, and do what?_

 

Yifan laughed at the question inside his head. Palming his face and letting out a silent grunt, he wondered if he really interpreted the whole situation perfectly.

The way Yixing would have wanted.

The way Junmyeon would have given his soul to make it happen.

The way he would like everything to be done _(but really?)_

Yixing was a bad writer—Yifan understood that much when he saw the drunken Junmyeon by the sea the other night. He always described how his days went with Junmyeon; the new food stalls they discovered together, the things they did when Junmyeon was having a sleepover at his place during a mild stormy night _(reading and board games, obviously)_ , how Junmyeon never failed to sit by the court during his basketball practices and how he never missed it.

But he never really told Yifan how Junmyeon looked like.

Yixing told him that Junmyeon’s laughter is addictive; he didn’t tell him about the full cheeks that flushed whenever he smiles.

_(Ah, but he did mention how he was persuaded just with a smile, didn’t he?)_

Yixing did say about how hard Junmyeon was working his dry bones off to make ends meet; he didn’t mention how rough those small hands and slender fingers had turned out to be over the years. He didn’t say anything about the scars and bruises either.

Yixing didn’t write about Junmyeon’s pretty bright eyes, or his small nose. He didn’t write about Junmyeon’s little mole just below his lower lip. He didn’t say anything about how Junmyeon looking more mature with his fringe pushed to the back of his head, or how he didn’t even had the slightest tan on his skin despite they’re living by the sea. He didn’t write about how he stuttered when he spoke to strangers, or how small he appeared when you’re looking at him from behind.

Yixing didn’t explain if he had the same urge to envelope his arms around Junmyeon’s lonely back when his head was down and his nape was visible— _vulnerable, touchable, brittle._

Yixing didn’t tell the details about this lovely Kim Junmyeon he was admiring for years at all, and Yifan was somehow glad that Yixing didn’t. He could’ve fallen in love with Junmyeon just with the stories if he did, and there’s nothing worse than falling in love with someone through the pretty words of their admirer, and to gently put the cherry on top, someone who wasn’t even aware of your existence.

 

 _(But now that he knew all those subtle pretty things about Junmyeon, what next?)_  
 

Yixing definitely didn’t tell if he too was fighting so hard to never kiss Junmyeon’s red cracked lips whenever their distance were so close that every heartbeat was visible and every stroke of breath was tasted.

Because that was the information that Yifan needed last night when he failed to stop his fuzzy head from leaning closer to have their lips connected. He remembered feeling the small jolt from Junmyeon’s hands, but he didn’t let them go. He thought about the roughness of his lips, how Junmyeon tasted nothing like how he had imagined through Yixing’s letters—soft, sweet, clad in brittle armour waiting to be dismantled by someone. Junmyeon was nothing but jaded, curious, intense but full of consent. He was not like the perfect kisses Yifan had been taking or given before; of lovers trying too hard to please him they ended up to be mutually disappointed.

Yifan was taken aback, to be honest, because his kiss with Junmyeon was so _human_.

 _“You’re a messenger,”_ he remembered Junmyeon breathed as he palmed the back of his hands that was cupping the sides of his face. Yifan could still feel how tight his eyelids were squashed as he shut them tight.

“I’m a messenger,” he reminded himself as the harsh morning breeze slapped his cheeks, as if it was trying to wake him up from a selfish dream. It almost did, but Junmyeon was still so vivid and real behind his eyelids, he couldn’t afford losing him right now.

 _“...then what is your message?”_ Junmyeon asked again, whispering when Yifan’s hands were crawling to the back of his nape, pulling the small pale man closer and feeling their body heats embracing the small space left between them.

And that was when Yifan stopped. He remembered pulling his hands away abruptly, leaving Junmyeon shocked and flustered. He could still feel the warmth of his skin when they parted, and it felt like a shame; it always felt like a shame when you’re suddenly pulled out from a beautiful daydream, wasn’t it?

He didn’t answer the question, and Junmyeon didn’t wait. He forced a few awkward coughs from his lungs and was already facing the door to his bedroom, hands clutched to his chest and feet still shuffling like a little hamster when Yifan did a last minute resolution and grabbed him by the shoulder.

_“I... that wasn’t me.”_

_“What?”_

_“That kiss... that wasn’t me. That was the message,”_ Yifan remembered feeling like he was the stupidest creature ever created in the universe. Junmyeon didn’t say anything, but kept on staring at his feet for almost a minute.

_“It’s either I’m an idiot for not getting it, or you’re sending the wrong one to me,”_

The image of Junmyeon’s lonely back retreating into his dark bedroom was burned into his mind.

Yifan opened his eyes, and the sun began to show up from behind the rough texture of the ocean that morning.

“I was trying to say... that your ocean is calling for you, Merman.”

But now he felt as if he was left stranded on a deserted island.

-

One of the things that Park Chanyeol really hated the most was really simple and wasn’t very hard to be avoided.

Loud knockings on the door, especially in the morning.

Apparently that was what most people do all over the world, because what is doorbell?

“Geez, I’m coming, you egg!” he cussed _(not really)_ , hurriedly pushing the minus button on the television remote for the volume and rushed towards the front door, passing Sehun who was also awaken by the furious knocking. He wanted to stop and check the boy’s temperature but Sehun just signed with his hand that he’s okay and Chanyeol should just proceed to entertain whoever bastard that was trying to have a fight with them at the doorstep.

Shrugging, he took a few long strides and forcefully swung the door open. For a couple of seconds, there was nothing in his sightline, except for the ocean and the streets before it. Chanyeol thought that it might probably be just a prank by some neighbourhood kids, so he was about to close the door again when a shiny black Mark & Spencer leather cleated shoe slipped into the opening, stopping him from proceeding.

“Oi, down here you freaking gorilla,” a nasally voice called him rudely through gritted teeth. A blond head peeked into the opening, his RayBan shade slid down his small nose, revealing a pair of dark brown eyes looking at Chanyeol with an immense murderous aura. Chanyeol almost had a heart attack, so instead of pushing the head away and out from the door like he had planned inside his head earlier, he did exactly the opposite.

He backed away from the door and voluntarily opened the door wider than he should. The stranger took the gesture as an invitation, of course, and let himself in. Chanyeol observed him from the few steps away that he took earlier; sharp chin, small nose, droopy eyes, and obviously shorter (and smaller) than him as Chanyeol’s eyes managed to catch a glimpse of thick, standard-bought insoles in his shoes when he took them off.

“You’re rude,” he finally said after almost two minutes contemplating which words he should come up with to address the stranger. The blond looked up from complaining at the hole near the left toe of the worn house slippers he had put on earlier, and laughed wryly as he took off his RayBan and slid it into the breast pocket of his light yellow shirt.

“I’m not saying otherwise. But hey, just in case I hurt your baby ass, I guess I’m sorry,” he said, smirking and shrugging. Chanyeol wished he had the guts to punch this bastard in the face instead.

“Who the fuck are you?” hey, he thought, _‘I finally asked the right question,’_ and the blond rude guy chuckled as he ruffled through the grey leather backpack hung on his left shoulder, before pulling out a red metallic case with his name cards inside. Chanyeol squinted as he received one of them, silently thinking that somehow somewhere, the name written on the card fit the owner who was standing in front of him perfectly.

“Byun Baekhyun, Publicist, Death Star Agency. I’m here to pick up a bastard,” he explained when Chanyeol didn’t blink, almost sure that he was being straight up to his real point of being there, but not quite. Apparently, the giant, sloppy, electrocuted kind-of-hairstyle but good-looking guy in front of him didn’t want to let him know the whereabouts of the famous bastard he’s been trying to reach for two days in a row now.

“Don’t play stupid,” he sighed desperately, one hand on his waist and the other rubbing his neck, as if talking to Chanyeol had stupefied him to an extreme extent. Chanyeol felt the heat crawling from his nape and behind his ears to rest on his cheeks.

“Why don’t you be fucking specific instead, ahjussi?” he tried to dodge, but Baekhyun didn’t seem to be wavered.

“I’m here to take that bastard Kris Wu back to Seoul.”

“Hey stop calling him a bastard, alright? He’s a nice guy!” Chanyeol exploded, mindlessly pushing Baekhyun’s shoulder and almost made him lose his balance, because nobody talks about his idol like that. _Nobody_.

However, realising what he had done, with him being the good kid of the neighbourhood since born and avoiding a circumstance where a dead body with a bloody head to be found inside Junmyeon’s cheap apartment, Chanyeol reached for one of Byun Baekhyun’s wailing hands instead and pulled him up to be on his feet again. He didn’t realise one of his hands was grabbing the small blond man’s waist, too.

Their eyes met awkwardly for a few seconds, and Chanyeol had never seen a man blushing up very badly in front of him so close like that. Byun Baekhyun was so red.

“So he _is_ hiding here, huh?” Baekhyun said smugly, and Chanyeol thought he had made a big mistake somehow. He then took a moment to see their positions—looked like they’re about to start dancing a fucking salsa.

“If you tell anyone that you saved my life, I’ll kill myself,” Baekhyun then whispered under his breath, and squirming his way out from Chanyeol’s hands.

“O—okay.”

“Chanyeol hyung? Who was that?” Sehun called him from the living room behind the wall, and Chanyeol could hear him coughing after that. The statics on the television was getting worse, signalling that a storm might come rolling into their town in probably just a couple of hours. Chanyeol left the publicist alone at the door, and went to check on Sehun instead.

“A rude bastard,” Baekhyun could hear the giant handsome lad named Chanyeol deadpanned as he made his way further into the small apartment, and he wasn’t really offended by it. People had been calling him names since he started jumping into this field almost eight years ago, and if he minded each and every one of them, he’d have been a simple office worker with a boring life to die with. Not proud.

“A rude bastard named Byun Baekhyun, and if you’re aware of the whereabouts of Kris Wu Yifan, please tell m— _holy guacamoley_ look at that _face_ , you look like my next _mis_...placed SUPERSTAR, kiddo!” he yelled, jumping in front of Chanyeol’s way and next to the couch where Sehun was sitting in. Sehun, nose still red and eyes still blurry looked over to Chanyeol for an explanation, but Chanyeol was just as surprised as he was.

“Excuse me?”

“No, excuse _me._ Cutie, it’s very rare to find a perfect specimen like you out of this dump-like fishing town. Would you like to live a glamorous life in Seoul and become a celeb—hey what the hell!!” he didn’t get to finish his introduction, or even give Sehun his fucking name card when Chanyeol pulled him by the collar from behind and tossed him onto the floor _(and away from Sehun because Baekhyun smelled like danger)._

“You’re being very rude, mister. I suggest you leave, right this instance. And Sehun, go to your room,” Chanyeol ordered the young boy, and Sehun listened obediently. Chanyeol was all fun and big smiles, but when he was being serious, Sehun thought people should just obey and not let him kill them.

Baekhyun frowned when he saw Sehun disappeared behind the wall, and Chanyeol was already pushing him towards the front door when he turned around spontaneously and stopped the huge lad.

“Wait, wait, okay! I won’t lay my hands on him! Just tell me if Kris was here? He was supposed to fly back to Vancouver two nights ago but then he went missing. He only left his manager this town’s name and I have to drive 5 fucking hours just to get here, so,” he stopped, took a breath and looked Chanyeol directly in the eyes before he continued.

“So could you please be oh so kind to cooperate with me, and let me do my work?”

“How should I know you’re not his sasaeng or something?”

“A sasaeng wouldn’t call their subject of affection ‘bastard’ in the first place, yeah?” he said, grimacing.

“Okay, point taken.” Chanyeol nodded, and a glad smile was drawn on his face. Baekhyun seemed flabbergasted.

“What?” he asked when the blond man looked to his feet as he rubbed the back of his nape, looked like as if he was contemplating something.

“Uh, no. Nothing,” Baekhyun answered, when he was in fact thinking whether he should have just offered Chanyeol the same thing he said to the teenager earlier instead.

“He was here, but I think he’s out for a walk or something. He’d left his wallet so I guess he’s coming back. You could wait here until he comes back,” Chanyeol offered as a courtesy, even though he had already leading Baekhyun back into the living room.

“Ah, but I need to find him right away, though,” Baekhyun tried to reason, even though he’s already sitting down. Chanyeol smiled again, and Baekhyun really wanted to plaster a blank paper card on his face so he wouldn’t have to be overwhelmed by that look on the lad’s face.

“I think a storm is on its way. Running around aimlessly in this weather would suck, no?” he said, and Baekhyun couldn’t help but to worrying his lower lip between his teeth as he realised how soft and deep Chanyeol’s voice had become.

“Oh by the way, my name’s—”

“Chanyeol. I know.”

-

It had been two hours, and the storm came just like how Chanyeol predicted. It was Baekhyun’s first time being in a town near to the sea in a stormy weather, so he really appreciated it when Chanyeol was entertaining him in the living room until the storm was over. They talked about Kris Wu mostly, though. Chanyeol said he had been to one of the fanmeet Baekhyun organised a couple of years ago on Kris’ first sci-fi flick, and he was so excited talking about it even though it had been so long. Baekhyun felt a little bit of pride rose from his stomach, passing his lungs and bouncing oh his heart before it fluttered excitedly at the back of his tongue.

“So whenever he’s in Korea, you’re among the firsts who gets to see him face-to-face?”

“Well, yeah. I need to work with his team and know their plans so I’ll get to arrange mine better,” and Chanyeol’s eyes were shining like a pair of stars _(Baekhyun didn’t really know if it’s a given or a curse for this lad to have big eyes)._

Chanyeol looked like he was about to ask another question and Baekhyun had secretly prepared himself for it when a bright light flashed across the sky and the lights went out. Seven seconds later, a loud thunder was shaking the ground. Chanyeol looked over to Sehun’s room opened door and was rather relieved to see a flashlight was on and Sehun yelling “I’m alright, hyung!” from his room. Baekhyun chuckled as Chanyeol woke up to search for the portable emergency light Junmyeon bought last week while they’re out shopping for groceries after work. _‘For a safer future,’_ he said when Chanyeol said he could’ve used the candles or something.

“You’re such a doting brother,” he finally said when Chanyeol was back in the seat next to him with the emergency light hung around his neck and two cups of hot tea in his hands. He offered one to Baekhyun who received it gladly. Chanyeol laughed and shook his head.

“Nah, Sehun is just lovable. No one can hate him, to be honest. I’d really love to have him as my little brother,” he told Baekhyun, and that made the publicist a little bit confused.

“He’s not...?” he didn’t finish his words when Chanyeol seemed to understand what he meant.

“He’s my sunbae’s brother, Kim Junmyeon.”

“Wait. This _isn’t_ your house?” Baekhyun asked again, brows crooked. Chanyeol shook his head again.

“No. I’m babysitting Sehun here since he’s having a fever and his brother’s at work. Wait, I’ll show you,” Chanyeol stood up and walked towards the shelf next to the television, and grabbed a photophrame. Baekhyun was agreeing with himself inside his head that this lad’s height and style of walking would’ve passed enough for an amateur runway. He then thought of smacking Chanyeol’s head for not explaining most of the important stuff before he invited him to wait for Kris here.

Damn this kid.

“So, here. This guy in the middle is Junmyeon hyung,” he pointed to the centre of the picture once he sat down again. It was the picture they took during one of the occasional picnic they had when Yixing and Sehun were so obsessed with their swimming competition. Junmyeon was wearing a red hoodie and Baekhyun couldn’t stop complementing how pale and flawless he looked like against the colour; Sehun was shirtless and slightly tanned, one arm hooked around his brother’s neck, and there was another guy with deep dimples and smiling eyes in a plain yellow t-shirt and black beach short, trying to hug them both from the left _(but his arms couldn’t reach them both so he just simply hugged Junmyeon alone, it seemed)._

“Who is this?” Baekhyun asked Chanyeol a few seconds later, and if only he saw how Chanyeol’s smile faded from his face.

“That’s Yixing hyung. He’s Junmyeon hyung’s best friend. I don’t really get the whole picture but I guessed Kris and Junmyeon hyung both knew him.” Baekhyun nodded, because Yixing was a familiar face.

“I see. Man, to think he used to be so vibrant and healthy. What happened to him?” Chanyeol flinched a little bit, but he assumed he was listening to it wrong _(or if Baekhyun just wasn’t that good with Hangul, who knows?)_ so he shrugged the feeling away.

“He died. Lost at sea. It’s been five years now,” he explained, and Baekhyun made a weird face.

“No, he did not. I know him, I’ve seen him before.”

“What are you talking about?” Chanyeol seemed to be agitated, but he held it in. Baekhyun didn’t seem to be lying.

“Yeah. That fanmeet you went to, the one that you told me earlier? Kris was late for almost an hour, right?” he asked, and Chanyeol tried to remember. He was reminded of how he and a couple of girlfriends were complaining about it being fucking hot.

“Yeah, I guess.”

“Well, I was the one who picked him up from this one apartment. He was meeting this guy there, and they were talking about dinner together or something. But the thing was, this Yixing, he was on a wheelchair. Well, that, and he’s definitely skinnier than he was in this here,” he took another look at the said picture and nodded, as if confirming his own memory. His blond hair swayed as he did so.

Chanyeol didn’t say anything. He didn’t blink either. Slowly, he put his mug away onto the table and walked past Baekhyun towards Sehun’s bedroom. Baekhyun turned his body halfway around, wondering why.

“Sehun-ah...” the sound of the old door creaked open and filled the house.

“Sehun.”

Click.

The electricity was back, and the lights were flickering, struggling to be bright again.

Sehun was sitting on his bed, almost crouching, palming his face.

Soft sobbing was becoming louder, and poor Chanyeol didn’t know what to do.


	8. Seahorses

He was arranging the newly arrived stock onto the shelves when the lights went out along with the bright light that flashed across the sky. A couple of gasps were heard from the customers who were there for some hot drinks and shelter from the light dribble a few seconds later when the ground was shaken by the loud thunder. Junmyeon rubbed his chest, trying to calm himself down. His manager, Jungsu hyung peeked from the small office at the back of the store, studying the situation.

“Junmyeon? Are you alright?” he asked, concerned. Junmyeon could see the singular light that pierced through the dim atmosphere from Jungsu’s emergency flashlight.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m okay.”

“Okay. I’m gonna check on the switchbox at the back. I think we have some kind of emergency generator somewhere, too.” He told him, and Junmyeon could barely see his skinny figure walking out from the office towards the back door. Another lightning strike again, but since everyone was aware of it this time, the customers just kept on sipping on their drinks and wishing for the storm to settle soon.

Hoping for Jungsu hyung to switch on the lights soon, Junmyeon wondered if he should call Chanyeol who were babysitting Sehun (“I’m not a kid anymore, hyungdeul.”) and ask about his brother. He would like to ask if they’ve had their lunch, too. Did Sehun finish his homework yet?

Yifan... did he come back?

Not that Junmyeon was hoping for him to be back; no no he was not thinking about the bundle of mysterious strings that tied up together named Kris Wu Yifan, no. He also definitely was not thinking about the ‘message’ that he sent to him early in the morning. Absolutely never, not even when he was already biting his lower lip; still tasting the soft, thin lips across his own cracked ones.

Yifan kissed him.

Junmyeon supposed he owned all the reasons there were to be surprised. Never in his twenty-three years of life had he ever tasted another’s lips on his. He didn’t think that he was... _kissable._ Girls weren’t really interested in him, not that he was in them either. Books and study and breaking his back bone for a living might have been the reasons that kept them away; he thought unconsciously. Also, he might have been quite scarred by the random trivial fact Yixing threw at him during their junior high when Junmyeon saw him evading a kiss of the lips by one of his girlfriend wannabes. It was weird alright, because the girl was pretty and typical school boys would have died to have a chance like that. He had asked Yixing on their way home after that about the reasons to why he rejected the kiss, and Yixing looked at him like he was the most insensible person he had ever met.

 _“You do know that there are more bacteria that could be shared through mouth kisses than there are on the toilet bowl – given that you would want to kiss it, don’t you Junmyeon?”_ Yixing told him with a grimace, as if he was offended that Junmyeon was even asking about that. Junmyeon shrugged and thought that Yixing could be spouting the most unexpected shits out of his mouth sometimes, not that he had a problem with it. Kicking the small stones out of his path, he took a long deep breath and said;

 _“I’d want to kiss someone without thinking about all those bacteria, Yixing, but thanks for the image,”_ he pretended to be offended, and Yixing laughed until his voice squeaked.

 _“So don’t just kiss anyone,”_ Yixing said moments later after his laughter subsided, one arm slung over Junmyeon’s shoulder and the other mindlessly tugging on the hem of his loose uniform as they reached the front gate of his house.

Honestly, that was the most useless advice that Junmyeon had ever heard.

(It felt like a warning too, somehow)

 

-

 

The lights were back on about 20 minutes later, much to Junmyeon’s relief, but Jungsu hyung didn’t immediately come out back to the front. Junmyeon could faintly hear he was speaking to someone in the back of the store, though. Probably Youngwoon hyung had come up to check on his condition here.

“Hey there, pretty boy,” the man emerged from the door that led to the back room with a huge grin on his face; wrapped in drenched yellow raincoat with a toolbox in one arm, followed by Jungsu hyung seconds later looking contented and safe, and Junmyeon was slightly relieved and proud of himself when his guess was right. Youngwoon was a familiar face around the town, having set up the small business of technical wiring and electrical fix-up in the local community. He had been best friends with Jungsu hyung since they were toddlers, and according to Youngwoon himself, they had never been separated even when they were already approaching their thirties. He was always throwing careless words of ‘I love yous’ and ‘I missed yous’ whenever he appeared in the store. Jungsu hyung didn’t seem to hate it when he did, though. If it’s anything, Junmyeon thought he looked rather happy, basking in the endless attention he got from Youngwoon.

 _“He keeps me grounded,”_ Youngwoon once whispered over the counter when Junmyeon jokingly asked him if he would’ve died if Jungsu wasn’t by his side one day. It was the third year of Yixing’s becoming the ocean and Junmyeon was feeling kind of grey that day, envious even when he saw how Youngwoon turned out of nowhere and brought lunch for Jungsu.

_“I was in a gang back in high school. Skipping classes, doing petty crimes, experimenting... substances. I was also known as a fighter – they called me Kangin because of my strength –kept getting bruises day after day. People were afraid of me. At first I thought that was cool, you know; having people not look at you in the eyes, feeling so powerful. But then it got lonely, so I stopped._

_“Jungsu was the only one who dared to scold me when I was hurt back then. He didn’t give up on me when even my parents were. He always look me in the eyes when he speaks, and too many times remembering how someone actually sees me as who I am saved me from getting into troubles,”_ he said with his eyes glanced towards the said man through the glass window of his office, taking calls and making notes of the stocks. Jungsu had been a little busy that day as it was only the second day of the month, so that’s why Youngwoon offered to make him lunch.

Sometimes Junmyeon wondered if these two men were in love with each other.

Most of the times, though, he couldn’t stop thinking how lucky he would be if Yixing was still here, so that they could grow old together and when they’ve reached at that one point in their lives, they could look back on moments when each of them were shaping a memory in other’s life.

Just a dream wouldn’t hurt.

 

-

 

“It’s getting calmer out there,” Jungsu said bursting the bubbles of thought above Junmyeon’s head, coming over from the coffee vending machine across the floor with two cups of hot coffee in his hands. He handed one to Youngwoon who took it with a glad smile, and sipped from his own a few seconds later.

“Is Sehun alright now?” Jungsu asked him conversationally, leaning against the counter and watched as Junmyeon restarted the counter PC and price-checker machines. Junmyeon smiled politely and shook his head. Youngwoon took a seat on the empty chair Junmyeon was sitting on during restocking earlier, and listened mindlessly to their conversation. His jacket was damp on the shoulders and Jungsu gestured him to take it off, but he shrugged the order with a grin.

“He’s still feverish, but it’s better than few days ago. Chanyeol’s looking after him today. I hope they had their lunch,” he voiced out his worry, trying not to sound as worried, though. He knew he sounded like a mother instead of a brother. Youngwoon had accused him of being too doting whenever it came to Sehun a few times before.

“I’m sure Chanyeol could whip something up for them both. That kid is good with the stove,” Youngwoon then commented honestly, eyeing Jungsu who had moved behind the counter and rearranging the invoice papers scattered on the floor next to Junmyeon. Biting his lower lip, Junmyeon raised his brows unconvincingly and silently nodded.

“Worrywart,” Jungsu mutters underneath his breath, probably thinking Junmyeon wasn’t listening, and blinked innocently as he looked up and met with his employee’s accusing eyes. He then chortled and patted the younger man’s head softly, before looking outside the window and shrugged.

“Well, brat, you can go home now,” he said, gesturing to the dark but calm weather outside with his thumb. The rain had stopped, even though he still caught the sight of empty plastics and papers and other light objects being thrown around in the street by the strong wind. Junmyeon turned around, following his finger and was about to nod when he took a glance at the clock on the counter PC, realising that he still have half an hour left on his shift. The customers who were flocking for shelter earlier had already dispersed, emptying the premise and in the end, Youngwoon and an elderly man were the only patrons left in the vicinity.

“My shift isn’t over yet, hyung.”

“You’ve done tonnes with the restocking today, Junmyeon. I can cover for your shift until Seol-Ah’s shift starts. Also, Youngwoon is here. He could help me with anything, God forbids if I ever need one.”

Junmyeon nodded again, but then he frowned.

“You’re gonna cut down my pay?” he asked carefully, and Jungsu was only a breath away from knuckling his head. Instead, he pushed the younger man out from behind the counter and into the employee’s locker room.

“Just go home, ahjumma.”

 

-

 

“You really like that kid, huh?” Youngwoon asked as the elderly customer walked out a few minutes after Junmyeon rushed home; his voice a little bit on the edge. Jungsu looked up from the counter PC that was still trying to connect to the internet, took a look at Youngwoon’s tight smile and nodded.

“Hmm, since I don’t have anything that I don’t like about him, then yes, I like him very much,” he replied with a grin, and watched as Youngwoon’s face fell into a frown.

“Well aren’t you a saint,” Youngwoon murmured, unhappy mood clouded his face and slumped shoulders. Jungsu chuckled a tad loud.

“But I still like you better,” he added, and for God’s sake, Youngwoon’s smile could possibly be the second sun on Earth as he looked up again from the screen.

“God, how I like you the most,” he said again but this time it came out as a whisper, lips threatening to smile so wide that he decided to clamp it down with a sheepish grin instead.

(Wasn’t really a success though)

 

-

 

He was halfway down the road to his apartment when the rain dribbled on the pavement again. Junmyeon cursed loudly as he rushed to the nearest shelter he could find; luckily the strong wind had turned subtle and he was sure he wouldn’t be flown away by it, not anymore.

He reached the front stairs of a house with hitched breaths and palms on knees, thinking of knocking on the door and asking for the owner’s permission to just sit there at the porch until the rain subsides. The back of his shirt was already drenched, and he could feel his underwear soaked through his jeans. Junmyeon took a deep breath and straightened his back—

Only to find a familiar green door, now old and mouldy, staring back at him.

Of course.

Who else lived halfway down his crappy old apartment if it wasn’t the Zhang family? He hadn’t been to the house for years now. The last time he was there, he was being silently chased out by Mr. Zhang, begging him to never come again. Mrs. Zhang was delirious even at the sight of him, yelling and screaming for him to _‘return Yixing to me!! Return my son to me!!’_ when it had only been a week ago that she offered him cookies and hot chocolate when he was there to hang out with Yixing.

Of course. Yixing was around by then.

A clasp of thunder jolted him out of his reveries, and only then Junmyeon realised that he was violently trembling. He was quite sure it was not because of the weather. 

“Yixing...” he whispered, loud enough for his ears to find his voice with the fierce sound of rain on the background.

 

_Yes, Junmyeon?_

 

Junmyeon wondered if other people acknowledged moments like this. That at one point of your peaceful life (not that his was), old memories resurfaced and haunted every little step that you’re trying to make in order to have your life sorted. They dragged themselves beneath the soles of your shoes, tripping you down and you fell flat on your face, and they didn’t stop after they did once. It kept recurring in one period of time and drained all your soul, thinking that this is it; this might be the time you stop trying, just let it take you away to your death. Let you disappear.

Junmyeon had always wanted to disappear, honestly.

It began since the moment everyone was telling him to understand his mother when she remarried and Sehun was born. It was subtle, never choking or alarming, this feeling. He had tried to be non-existent every time his mother was laughing to his step-father’s lame jokes, or when she was too busy with Sehun that she forgot to prepare his lunch box for school.

But then Sehun was there, and Junmyeon had bitten the thought down. Sehun was everything a life could mean, and Junmyeon couldn’t bear the thought of not being there somewhere in Sehun’s future ever since Sehun went to him first instead of their mother when he was hurt in the knee, asking for a healing kiss.

(Junmyeon kissed him on his forehead instead, because Sehun’s knee was dirty)

And then Yixing came in.

Kind Yixing, beautiful Yixing. Yixing who loved him for who he was, who couldn’t stand seeing him sad even for a day. Yixing who loved Sehun just how Junmyeon loved Sehun.

Yixing who didn’t spare his own life for their mother’s.

Junmyeon thought God was a bad joker. Or a bad director in general, if life was a play. He must’ve known how important someone’s life was in comparison to the other, that He decided that Yixing’s was more precious than Junmyeon’s, so He took Yixing first.

Junmyeon wasn’t stupid. Yixing was dead, alright. Yixing was. Even though he refused to believe it until he sees a proof; tangible evidence that Yixing had drowned to death to save his mother, he knew.

Zhang Yixing was no longer around. Zhang Yixing, the beautiful boy with deep dimples carved on his cheeks, his beloved best friend was dead.

 

_I’m a messenger_

 

Junmyeon heard the voice pounded against his eardrums, and took a step backward from the front step. He was instantly reminded as to why he was having such turmoil in the depth of his stomach for the last few days.

That damned guy.

Another clasp of thunder, and Junmyeon brought his palms to his ears. He didn’t try to hide away from the loud noise, though, rather trying to shut the soft, nasally voice inside his ears.

 

_I’m a messenger, Junmyeon-ah_

 

He heard him again, so he yelled until his throat felt sliced with sharp pain and his voice coarse. He eventually shut that voice out, but he felt a ghostly touch nipping on his wrists and on his lips instead.

Just like this morning.

Slapping his own cheeks repeatedly, Junmyeon turned around and observed the heavy rain that lined down from the roof of the porch. The house had been abandoned for five years now, not sold to anyone either.  If he took another step through the green front door, there’d be a huge white bookshelf to his right, and a flight of stairs that will bring him to the second floor where Yixing room was.

Yixing room that was filled with books, medals and signed basketballs from his favourite players. Of their pictures filling one side of the wall. Of the birthday cards Sehun made for Yixing (but was a secret from Junmyeon until he saw them himself) pinned on the blackboard against his study desk. A guitar near the corner by his bed.

Everything that screamed out Yixing.

 

 _Junmyeon-ah? You look sad. Why are you sad?_ Yixing asked him.

 

“Because you are not here.” he replied, arms crossing his chest, hugging his own body for warmth.

 

“I... I need to go.”

 

 _Why?_ Yixing asked him again with a disappointment.

 

The rain was still pouring, and Junmyeon’s thought was flying back towards his brother and his hoobae at home once again.

 

_Junmyeon-ah... I—_

 

Junmyeon ignored him, and sprinted through the rain. He was barely passing the front lawn when a strong grip yanked him backwards and dragged him to be under the roof again. His feet were tripping against each other, and in panic, he instinctively turned on his heels and had his face slammed against a clothed broad chest.

“You’re cold,” a familiar voice said, arms rounded around Junmyeon’s shoulders, voice low and breathy. Funny, Junmyeon thought he had just been crying somehow.

“I’m—I can’t be _here_ ,” he pushed, but it wasn’t strong enough. Junmyeon could feel the guy’s hand on his nape, and he wasn’t any different from him, trembling and all. He was still struggling until he felt hands trailing down on his sides, resting on his hips. Junmyeon looked up, and there Yifan was – haunted, longing and relieved at the same time.

“Let’s wait until the rain stops,” he said, voice breaking. Junmyeon shook his head, trying to escape again. But Yifan only held on tighter, arms around his waist and eyes piercing into his. Junmyeon jumped as lightning flashed across the sky, and breathed in.

“Junmyeon...” he called, low and longing and Junmyeon suddenly weakened. There was something about Yifan’s voice that made him surrender; tamed his anxiety and fear about stepping around the house’s vicinity again.

 

 _I want you to stay, Junmyeon,_ Yixing whispered between them, and Junmyeon shut his eyes.

 

“Stay.” Yifan begged.

Slowly, slowly, Junmyeon leaned into his chest.

 

-

 

 _“Mom didn’t grab those pictures I hung on the walls,”_ Yifan heard Yixing said weakly over the phone as he observed the said pictures. Five years had done nothing to them, apparently, just needed to be dust here and there.

“Well she’s done the right thing. You looked so ugly in these pictures, good Lord.” He snickered, and Yixing might as well roll his eyes if Yifan could see him.

 _“Da-ge, just bring me all those pictures, alright?”_ he said a few seconds later, more resolute with his words, and Yifan said alright, almost ending the call when he heard Yixing cleared his throat, getting ready to say something else. He waited.

“Yes, Yixing?” he prompted when a minute almost passed and Yixing was still finding his words at the other end of the line.

 _“How’s the town?”_ he asked later, curiosity and worry brimming over the edge of his voice.

“It’s not noisy, although a tad smelly.” Yifan answered truthfully, no snarky comments intended. He could hear Yixing chuckled and then took a deep breath.

 _“I saw the weather forecast; said there’s gonna be storming_ ,” he continued, muttering his words as if he was afraid that Yifan might judge him for checking on the weather report of the town that was once his. A town where everything unpleasant that ever happened to him had begun.

But also a town that housed his most beloved.

Yifan hummed, and took a look outside the window of Yixing’s old bedroom. Indeed, a huge dark cloud was hovering low above the sea, expanding and engulfing every chance of blue sky that tried to break through. The wind was getting stronger; trees were violently swaying and bending, stubborn and preserving against it.

“It is. I think I’m going to have to stay here until it settles,” he told Yixing, and the younger man hummed. There was a rustle in the background; he was probably adjusting his seat on the bed. Yifan closed his eyes, imagining Yixing.

Thin, lifeless pair of legs. Skinny torso underneath his favourite grey cardigan. Pale face but blinding smile – what a contradiction.

But he was so lively in the pictures on the wall. Red cheeks and tanned skin, healthy muscles donning his chest and abdomen, swelled thighs.

It was sad for Yifan to even think that he was imagining and looking at the same person.

_“Yifan-ge.”_

“Yes, Yixing?”

A long pause. A hitched breath. Wavering hum. Yixing was taking his time for the real question he had been waiting to ask since the moment Yifan picked up the phone.

 _“Did you... did you see him?”_ he finally asked, last word came out as a mumble, but Yifan caught it clearly. He took a few moments to answer – one hand dusting a picture of Yixing and Junmyeon that was pinned on the board against Yixing’s desk, long fingers tracing Yixing’s shoulders, lips, ears, hair.

“See who?” he replied with a question, attaining a frustrated huff from Yixing. Yifan chuckled, and waited for Yixing to elaborate his question, but he didn’t. Instead, he let out a slow whisper of _‘I miss him’_ and told Yifan to not to leave the house until the storm had passed.

 _“Don’t forget the pictures, Yifan-ge. And thanks for going out of your way there. I hope Baekhyun won’t be too angry,”_ he said before the line was cut off. Yifan nodded to the blank screen, and palmed his face, sighing.

“I’m sorry, Yixing. I really am.”

Because he had met the person Yixing had missed, and he had kissed that person for Yixing.

He thought that was the message he was supposed to relay from his beloved cousin.

But now? Now he wasn’t so sure anymore.

 

-

 

He was stuck for almost three hours there, in Yixing’s room, surrounded by the memories that didn’t belong to him.

Yifan felt a bit of melancholic – he had only seen Yixing this healthy almost eight years ago when he was sixteen years old, when he was still a part-time model and in college. Yixing had visited him in Canada by himself, complaining about the cold weather when it was supposedly summer. He remembered taking Yixing to his mother’s grave; Yixing’s smaller hands engulfing his bigger ones after they paid respect to her, him trying not to cry but failed in the last moment.

He also remembered feeling the pricks of jealousy behind his neck as Yixing told him about Kim Junmyeon. He commented harshly about Junmyeon being too dependent on Yixing, and Yixing sulking about it.

(he ended up having to spent a whole night trying to apologise and cheer him up again)

He hated Kim Junmyeon after that.

But what happened now?

He had wished for another Kim Junmyeon this morning – another Kim Junmyeon that wasn’t Yixing’s beloved, that wasn’t a tight-up final year university student that was on his semester vacation, trying to make ends meet with endless jobs and battered body.

Another Kim Junmyeon that could belong only to him.

(but he doubt he’d want that Kim Junmyeon over Yixing’s precious one)

Dear God, he was so fucked.

A loud thunder cracked outside the window again, and Yifan shivered as he mindlessly looked into the lawn, cringing at the untrimmed weeds and wild grass. He remembered helping his uncle cleaning the grasses he cut when he first arrived in Korea years ago with his mother. He remembered throwing the dried ones at Yixing, causing the younger boy to have a mouthful of it. They were playfully chasing each other with their mothers watching from the porch, reminiscing about their younger days.

His mother had never been so happy, and that was the last time he had seen her smile so brightly.

The shadow of a small man scurrying across lawn and directly onto the porch reminded him of the boy that borrowed Yixing’s book about the little mermaid who came to return the King Arthur story to Yixing. Yifan stopped himself from drowning in the memory, shook his head, and hurried downstairs.

He watched the smaller man from the window pane next to the front door, observing. The way his chest moved up and down, gasping for air. The water that ran down his pale neck, soaking the front of his shirt. Cracked lips that had turned bluish from the cold. His anxious face the moment he realised he was standing in the one place he shouldn’t come. The way he covered his ears, the desperate scream he let out and the chant of Yixing’s name time and time again...

_Yifan silently wished it was his name that rained out from his lips then._

The moment he saw the smaller man getting ready to leave despite the heavy rain, Yifan was already filled with envy. Yixing had been loved, so dearly loved by Junmyeon, by Sehun. Despite everything that happened to him, Yixing was a precious memento to a memory. He could have really become the ocean, and Junmyeon would have jumped into it and be washed away if Yixing ever called for him.

Because in every breath that Junmyeon took since five years ago, Yixing was the small, micro-pieces of particles that air could have been, and Yifan realised how he hated it.

He hated Kim Junmyeon for Yixing’s existence.

 _‘I want him,’_ he figured as he pulled the door open and chased the smaller man.

 _‘I want him... for me,’_ he told himself when he dragged Junmyeon back underneath the roof, soaking wet and delirious.

 _‘I want him... I want him for myself,’_ he confirmed, as Junmyeon’s shivering arms answered his breathless begging with a timid hug around his torso.

Slowly, slowly, Yifan sent Yixing a regretful apology.

 

_Da-ge?_


	9. The Drowning Merman and The Pretentious Prince

Were there any other synonyms for kissing?

Ah, there’s one. _Osculation_.

The act of caressing with the lips, although it was originally derived from the mathematical context; a situation that happens when two curves meet at one point, at which they are having a common tangent.

So skipping math altogether, in another limited sense of coherency Junmyeon could come up with at the time; wu Yifan was caressing him with his lips.

Hmm. That didn’t sound so right.

But it wasn’t so wrong either, given how his body was _desperate_ in opening chances and spaces for the crooks on Yifan’s body to slot against him perfectly.

The green door that closed loudly behind them as Yifan pushed him against it creaked, registering every time his hands were pinned and restricted of movements. Junmyeon had a brief thought that he was going to die, drowning against the rough kisses and the tongue that invaded the soft inner mouth of his.

He had seen Yifan up-close. He was everything worth the years of modelling and being a celebrity had given him – beautiful, inviolable, complicated, and broken. But this was the first time they had been so close that Junmyeon could see the blood rush that passed his pulses drummed under his skin. He could count the long eyelashes that covered the lazy, mischievous eyes if only he hadn’t been so busy trying to count his breath to be synchronised with Yifan’s, too distracted with the hand that started to taste the small curve on his back, just above his ass.

“Yifan...” he croaked when the kiss broke, lips so wet and swollen and red, and Junmyeon regretted the random realisation that he was going to have to live with the soreness on his tongue for a few days, answering curious questions from his employers.

Yifan stopped kissing him on the mouth and trailed his kisses to Junmyeon’s neck instead, but one of his hands was on Junmyeon’s back, securing him in his stance, blocking every chance of escape (or even the thought of it) and the other dangerously caressing the small sensitive spot above his groin where every ticklish feeling would go, and Junmyeon froze.

 _Junmyeon,_ Yixing called for him, and Junmyeon tried; he tried really hard to see Yixing inside his mind, his smile, his warm laughter, his worried looks. And it felt really, really difficult to do so when Yifan was there, okay. Yifan was there in the flesh, not Yixing, and Yifan was worshipping him with his caresses and his low voice that called out for him like he was someone that is so out of reach.

“Junmyeon... stay. Stay. With me. Choose me.” Yifan repeated, huge hands attempted to capture Junmyeon’s wrists, pinning him against the closed door again, but Junmyeon made a small escape.

“What? Choose...? No, this isn’t right—” he put in some effort, although reluctant, pushing Yifan away from within the reach of his arms, but it felt so inconvenient for him to do so. It took him only seconds to look up from his feet and met with Yifan’s eyes, but Junmyeon swore it was the whole hour worth of effort.

“I... I don’t know... why are we doing this? Why are you doing this? Is this another message? From Yixing? Why are you trying to be his messenger in the first place? What was his message??” he yelled, impatient, confused, and bewildered. The shower outside was getting too loud that it was deafening, and if Junmyeon wasn’t already looking at Yifan’s lips, admiring how similar it looked like to his right now – not that he could see his at the moment – he might’ve missed the words Yifan was uttering.

“His message was just as it is. But for me... I want you, Kim Junmyeon. I’ve always wanted you ever since Yixing started to tell me stories about you. I hated you, but now I know that was because I wanted you. I wanted you so bad, that when I heard about what happened to Yixing, I felt a slight relief inside my head, and I wanted to punch myself.

“I wasn’t planning anything at all. I was just going to leave after I get what I need from here, mementos of Yixing. But then I saw you... I should’ve ignored his request. I should’ve.” he crouched, faltering in front of Junmyeon, hands weaving in his thick unruly hair, devastated. Junmyeon felt like fisting his own hands in that hair, pulling his face up and telling him to stop looking so sad.

“What of me? What happened now that you’ve met me?” he asked impatiently when Yifan wasn’t making a sound. Yifan let go of his hair, folded his arms so that his palms would rest on his knees; like a little kid guilty of breaking vases. His face had calmed down, now replace with something almost equal to serenity, but not quite.

Like he had seen something he wanted, but still couldn’t find a way to make it his.

“I’ve always thought that falling in love with the person who doesn’t even know about your existence was the worst. I was so sure that as long as I don’t get to see you, this hatred towards you would stay as it was. But you remembered me. You knew who I am. I know it’s silly, but that gave me hopes. I’m starting to hope for my feelings, whatever they are, towards you would be reciprocated. I want you to know more about me, because I’ve known so much about you that it drives me mad.” He stood back up and approached Junmyeon for the second time. His height was looming, somewhat overbearing, and it caught Junmyeon off guard when Yifan’s hands were once again rounding around his wrists.

“You, Kim Junmyeon, is driving me mad that I cannot help but to want you just for myself.” He whispered against Junmyeon’s ear, one leg slotting in between Junmyeon’s shivering ones, pressing adamantly against Junmyeon’s crotch. A surprised moan escaped the smaller man’s lips as he was already half-erected from the deep kisses earlier.

“No, stop—” Junmyeon resisted, but it was useless. His arms were brought up and pinned against the door, and Yifan kissed him again like Junmyeon was the last hope for his survival.

 _This doesn’t make any sense,_ he thought, but it was drowned by the hands on his hips and thighs, and the slow but forceful kisses on his neck and lips. Yifan had washed over him like that sudden wave crashing on him once upon a time, while he was sitting lazily on the shore, feet dipping carelessly into the warm water on a late afternoon. He was waiting for Yixing and Sehun to return from their stupid swimming competition and the wave caught him off guard, rolling and dragging him into the sea.

Junmyeon was reminded of the short, helpless feeling he had then before he could re-emerge on the water surface and swam back towards the beach.

“Junmyeon...please—” Yifan begged, hands already roaming against Junmyeon’s bare skin, beneath his wet clothes. Yifan was touching him everywhere that he had never been touched before, and Junmyeon felt like he needed to feel ashamed of the fact that he wanted to be touched.

But every touch felt like a crashing wave.

“Choose me.”

And Junmyeon didn’t think he could swim back to the shore like he did before.

-

 _“He sounds difficult,”_ Yifan told Yixing once on the phone a few years ago. It was their routine phone call; every two weeks, Yifan would take his time to make sure he would have the chance to listen to Yixing’s cheerful voice. For others, they saw him as a doting older cousin, but only God knew how important those phone calls were to Yifan. To him, it was a proof that in this world, in contrary to all those screams of I love yous that he got whenever he walked down the street from his admirers, there will always be someone who would speak to him as if nothing had changed. That he was still the same Yifan that could be angry and bratty at the same time; the same Yifan that didn’t get enough love.

 _“He is not!”_ Yixing yelled, and Yifan was afraid he would slam the phone down and end this phone call earlier than what he intended to be, so he apologised. In the end, he spent half an hour listening to nothing else other than Yixing’s story of a very difficult boy named Kim Junmyeon.

“Yifan... _stop_ —mmnh.”

That difficult boy turned into a very difficult man named Kim Junmyeon who was writhing in his arms then.

( _but Yifan realised that Junmyeon wasn’t the difficult one—he was_ )

The house was dark, but Yifan could still see the way Junmyeon’s pale body arching against the wall when he pulled down his boxer and revealed his fully hardened cock. He wasn’t resisting anymore, even though his face was showing nothing but reluctance.

Yifan bent down and planted peppery kisses down the trail of Junmyeon’s middle abdomen until his lips reached the place where every tickle went to underneath his navel. Junmyeon squirmed when Yifan held onto his hips, restricting him of movement and started to kiss the inside of his thighs, intentionally avoiding the one obvious erection he was having because of the touches.

“Don’t... don’t do that,” Junmyeon whimpered, one arm covering his mouth and his watery eyes were looking down, pleading at the sight of Yifan’s hair between his legs. Yifan returned the stare as he stood back up and took the shivering Junmyeon in for an embrace.

“You don’t have to look so sad. Please, don’t cry. I’m not going to hurt you. God, Junmyeon, I could never hurt you. Trust me.” He assured, pulling away a little just so that he could take another look on Junmyeon’s face. Confused, but not resisting anymore. Conflicted, but no longer scared. Yifan wanted to hope, to let himself holding on to his desire and let every single feeling inside him; every single tortured piece of his soul be free, because that was why he was here in the first place.

Yixing was only an excuse, and Yifan resented his own selfishness.

“I really want to.” Junmyeon whispered; trembling hands gripping on Yifan’s arms, eyes clamped shut and breathing completely uneven, albeit calmer than earlier. Yifan cupped the sides of Junmyeon’s small face, kissing him rather violently this time and took his time to remember every crook and cranny of Junmyeon’s neck and nape with the tips of his fingers.

“I’m not gonna hurt you, okay,” Yifan told him again, slowly and in a whisper. The tips of his fingers were cold, and Junmyeon trembled as they touched his thin earlobes. Carefully, his hands slid down Junmyeon’s back, counting the visible dull spikes of his spine from the back of his nape until he reached to the small of his back, and that was when Junmyeon whimpered. The closeness of their bodies made him highly conscious of the way Yifan’s jeans was rubbing against his exposed front, so he tried to push Yifan away, turning his hips but Yifan’s hands were already gripping tightly on his waist. Yifan was sure they’ll bruise tomorrow.

“Junmyeon...” Yifan said huskily, eyes clouded with arousal. Junmyeon’s jeans and boxers are already down, circling messily around his ankles. Yifan then unzipped his, revealing his own hardness, and Junmyeon turned his head away.

“Are you scared?” he asked cautiously, afraid that he was pushing it too far. Thank God, Junmyeon shook his head.

“No... Just thinking... how wrong it is, this thing that we’re doing— _hnnh!_ ” he stopped when Yifan brought their hardness together with one hand; long fingers, big thumb caressing the bulging veins on the underside of his cock.

“Yeah... but Junmyeon? Don’t you think how right this feels when it’s between you and me? Just you and me?” Yifan asked; one side of his lips turned upwards as he started to slot in between Junmyeon’s opened legs, and rubbing himself against the smaller man.

It felt right, so right to have Junmyeon powerless and aroused and so, so needing of him without even a thought about zhang Yixing.

That’s right.

“Forget about him. Choose me.”

If the three of them were in a race of who would be the most difficult to understand, Yifan would definitely win. He didn’t even have a clue about his own self.

-

_“My poor Sehunnie.”_

He heard Yixing whispered; warm hand softly swept his bang away from his sweaty forehead. There was the smell of medicated oil he put on his temples earlier before he went to bed; he thought it was just a raise in his body’s temperature because of staying up late past his bedtime. He forgot that he went back home from school late yesterday afternoon zigzagging through the rain.

Sehun rolled his body to a side, and as he did so, his nose was buried into someone’s torso; Sehun liked the way Yixing’s body scent was permeated thoroughly into the fabric and he had always decided that Yixing smelled very, very, very nice. Although his whole body still felt squeamish and sore, Sehun forced his arms to secure the warm body next to him, and he could feel Yixing’s laughter vibrated throughout his flesh, like a symphony being played through the inside of a man. A very relaxing and peaceful lullaby.

“Oh, you’re awake? Let’s eat, then. Junmyeon started his part-time earlier today, so I figured that there must no one to take care of your meal.”

“What’s the time now?” he asked groggily, voice broken and somehow awfully shaken. Sehun was sure that it must’ve been very late in the morning, judging from the fierce sunlight that passed through the small crack of the window in his bedroom. Yixing took a few seconds to glance towards his wristwatch.

“It’s half past three.”

Oh, so he already missed school for today. _Whatever,_ Sehun thought; it’s not every day that he gets to be this close with Yixing alone.

“Come on; let’s put some food in you. I made rice porridge with boiled salted egg. And I brought some medicine too. Get up, Sehunnie.” Yixing slapped his back a couple of times as he tried to break away from Sehun’s hug, but that only made Sehun held on him tighter.

“Can I eat in the bed, hyung?” Sehun asked in a mumble; good thing Yixing had good ears. He slapped his back again, this time a bit harder, just enough to get Sehun’s attention.

“Nope. Eat at the table. I’ve put it all out; it’s going to be a hassle to bring them here for you. Get up, get up!” Yixing’s slap on his back had somehow begun to soften, as if he was synchronising with a rhythm. Slowly and gently, Yixing stopped slapping and started to rub his small hand on Sehun’s bony shoulders instead.

“You should really eat more, Sehunnie. At this rate, I’m afraid you’ll end up collapsing by the roadside somewhere.”

“You’ll pick me up if I do, won’t you hyung?” Sehun replied; eyes still clasped shut and hands still not letting go of Yixing’s slim waist. He knew Yixing would be pissed with his answer, calculating from his deep but silent grunt. But Sehun wanted him to be pissed, because that was how he had been comparing Yixing’s attention towards him and Junmyeon.

He was well informed that Yixing treasured Junmyeon like he was the most important existence in his world. Junmyeon might not realise it, but Yixing had always been so gentle towards him, even though they were arguing almost about everything whenever they met. He had shown his care through every way possible; from the way his pretty fingers were touching Junmyeon’s hair to the way he softly smiled whenever Junmyeon was making a joke, even when it wasn’t that funny to Sehun.

Yixing treasured Junmyeon way more than what he deserved, so it would only be natural for Yixing to make sure that Sehun became his priority, too. Because after all, Sehun was Junmyeon’s everything. Ah, there’s always something so bittersweet in this thought; like he had been misusing the privilege of being Junmyeon’s half-brother to get the love he could never possibly dreamt of.

Sehun was a selfish bastard, of course. Because if he really was a sincere, good-natured person, he wouldn’t come in between Yixing and Junmyeon every time they’re having their time together. He could’ve chosen to stay at home when Yixing was forcing Junmyeon to come with him to the beach; he could’ve always reject Yixing’s stupid challenge to swim to that small island and let Yixing played around with Junmyeon instead.

But that would mean letting Junmyeon to keep Yixing to himself, and Sehun thought he deserved Yixing, too. In fact, Sehun had thought about having Yixing to himself ever since that morning in the hospital when he was almost got hit by the glass thrown by their mother while she was having her episode; when Yixing pulled him away towards safety and promised him protection with his then slim, teenage arms around Sehun’s shoulders.

Sehun remembered thinking; _ah, this is the one person I’ll never let go. This is the one person I’ll keep forever._

“Yeah, I’ll pick you up and feed you back to health. I’ll make sure that you’ll be safe, because you’re my Sehun, right? I’ll pick your pieces and patch you back up, don’t worry,” Yixing said through his little giggles, and Sehun could feel his cheeks getting warmer.

But poor Sehun; instead of forever, he couldn’t even keep Yixing for a while longer.

-

“Sehun-ah.”

Park Chanyeol’s experience in talking to sad people was almost the same as his experience in asking ladies out; close to zero. This was one of the reasons why he avoided funerals and weddings. He didn’t expect that he had to deal with two different people in this situation for two days in a row.

Baekhyun was watching them from the living room with curiosity donning on his face; or he’s just someone who enjoyed other people’s miseries, probably. Chanyeol believed in the latter. Sehun’s bed creaked as he sat down and flung his long arm around the teenager’s body; he was still warm from his fever, but it wasn’t as bad as it was before.

“It could’ve been someone else, Sehun-ah. Baekhyun had only seen him once, right, Baekhyun-ssi?” he turned his face around, looking at Baekhyun as if he was searching for concrete evidence. Baekhyun shook his head and was about to answer that no, he had seen him a couple of times after that, even had some small chats with him a few times since he had been Yifan’s chauffer too for most of the time he was in Korea, but Chanyeol’s slicing gaze made him swallow his words (which tasted like sandpaper now) and solemnly nodded.

Gone was the gentle host from earlier. Baekhyun felt slightly cheated.

“It could’ve. I mean, I haven’t really spoken to him, and I’ve never asked his name, either. It might be someone else.” Baekhyun said a small lie and a couple of truth after a few seconds of consideration; sweet talking had always been his mean of business, so if he wanted to try it on some social, humanity efforts, he might as well try it now.

Sehun’s long lashes were sticking together from his tears, and there were traces of it down the sides of his face, too. His nose had turned red and Chanyeol could see that his lips were trembling as he tried to stop himself from continue on sobbing.

“Sehun-ah...”

“I’m fine. I’m okay. I’m just...” Sehun took a deep breath, and wiped his face. Baekhyun had already moved a couple of steps nearer to the bedroom, getting eager to know more of the story. He’d surely ask Yifan a whole fucking lot once he returns later, even though he knew Yifan would be reluctant to answer him.

-

“Am I being a burden to everyone?” Sehun asked at one point with his voice vibrated in between his teeth and breath turned shallow when his tears stopped flowing and poor Chanyeol, he was just not used to difficult questions like this.

“What... what made you think that way?” he finally asked, being vague yet specific at the same time. Sehun had already calmed down roughly fifteen minutes later, and Chanyeol quickly pulled him up and away from his bedroom and sat him down at the dining table, told him to wait for a while as he was going to make him some hot chocolate drinks. Baekhyun followed them silently from behind, and Chanyeol felt sorry for him for being dragged into this situation out of nowhere (he forgot that he was unintentionally involved, too, somehow.)

“I don’t know... I guess from the beginning. When father left us and made mother sad. When Junmyeon hyung missed his chance to go to a better university in Seoul and settled for the one here instead, just so I won’t be left alone...” he paused, staring at the white steam that rolled off the edges of his mug, counting the lines that rippled on the surface of the drinks when Baekhyun accidentally kicked one of the table’s leg.

“...or maybe when Yixing hyung went to save her that night, because I was so unreliable to do it myself. He must’ve thought of me as a burden. Or else he won’t be hiding from me, from us right now. That hyung... even when he’s hating us, he’s still being very thoughtful. He must’ve thought that if he tells us directly that he’s going to abandon us, that he has had enough of us, Junmyeon hyung would be sad and heartbroken.” Sehun stopped, took a sip and then put the mug down before he stared into Chanyeol’s face.

Sometimes Chanyeol got this feeling that Sehun had been absent whenever he was looking into someone’s face like that. Like he had wished for someone he couldn’t reach instead of the person that was there; like he was waiting for them to emerge out of thin air.

“You know you’re wrong, Sehun. You know you are. Hey, if you are a burden, I wouldn’t wait for like, seven years pretending to be friends with Junmyeon hyung to bail out. I would’ve sprung out the front door when he first brought me here, ironically, to take care of you when you had that dengue, remember? I mean what good senior would drag a junior to his house, just to take care of a sick brother, right?” Chanyeol said with a disgusted face; his electric hair swayed as he shook his head and sipped his drinks, pretending like he was trying to swallow the bitter reality he had saved inside his mouth.

“You’re just saying that to comfort me, hyung,” Sehun replied stubbornly, and Chanyeol clucked his tongue, annoyed. In front of him, he could see Baekhyun was secretly checking his wristwatch—he probably realised how unnecessary his existence in the house was right now.

“Well, even if you are a burden, Sehun, I don’t think you’d be a heavy one. Look at you; all bones and no meat. I could wear you around my waist like a belt and still feels nothing. Anyways, I guess the best way to know about all these shits is to wait for Yifan to come back and hopefully, he’ll be honest with us about it, okay?” he rested his huge palm on Sehun’s shoulder, convincing him that everything was going to be alright (when he knew it wasn’t).

“But... if it’s really Yixing hyung, I wonder how glad Junmyeon hyung would be,” Sehun finally let out, and he was trying very hard to keep his voice sounded relieved, but Chanyeol wasn’t an insensitive fellow. He could see the disappointment past the small smile that Sehun carved on his lips, and for the love of God, he really wondered what was it that Sehun did wrong in the past lives that he couldn’t afford to feel that he was actually also a part of this big, jumbled, fucked up and very messed up story himself.

That he was also important. That he was probably also the reason why Yixing—Chanyeol hoped it was really him as well as he also hoped that it was not—did whatever that he did.

“You should be too, Sehun-ah. For fuck’s sake, you have all the rights in this world to be glad about it.”

Sehun’s smile slowly bloomed into a perfect, beautiful grin, and Chanyeol knew that Baekhyun was downright smitten with this lovely kid he had known since a few years ago right then.

-

Because of their clothes were already wet from the rain earlier and from the sweat just now, Yifan suggested that they should just walk back home despite the rain that was still pelting outside if they didn’t want to spend the night there in the cold (although Yifan wouldn’t really mind if Junmyeon wanted to).

Junmyeon was still in a trance over what had happened that he could only nod in agreement.

“I didn’t hurt you, did I?” Yifan then asked him with a careful voice; he fell back slowly, sitting next to Junmyeon as he leant back against the old, mouldy green door. He tried to take one of Junmyeon’s hands into his, but he stopped when he saw Junmyeon flinched a little.

“No... no, you didn’t. Sorry, I’m just... it’s going to take a while for me to process everything, I guess.” He admitted, still awkward with the rejection he showed himself towards Yifan. Yifan let out a chuckle, and there was a brief exhale of content in his breath when he heard that.

“Does this mean that you like me?” he asked Yifan a few moments later, waiting for a hint of truth. Who knew; Yifan could hate him right now. He could’ve pretended that he was in love with Junmyeon to avenge on Yixing’s death; which was probably more likely to the current scenario they’re in.

God, he was so stupid. So trusting and annoyingly naïve!

“I might be in love with you.”

Wait, what?

“You _might_ be in love with me?”

“You can’t force feeling, can you? I like you, really like you now, but I won’t mind falling in love with you, too. Maybe after a few dates. Maybe after just a coffee date... at your place tonight? Who knows? Life’s a mystery, isn’t it?” Yifan teased, and he was trying to take Junmyeon’s hand once again. Junmyeon tried not to flinch this time, but he was also staring at his hand; wondering.

It’s not even pretty, his hands. The fingers were crooked, and veins were popping everywhere. His fingernails were clipped too short and too deep that the flesh was dangerously showing. He had band-aids around the base of his fingers—one was on his palm, too. The skin was peeling on his palms. Too many jobs and too little time, probably. Working at the seafood restaurant really damaged his hands, but that was where he got paid the most, so no one’s losing.

But Yifan seemed to be very obsessed in having them inside his. He took a glance at Yifan’s; they were well groomed, and Junmyeon couldn’t help but felt jealous of the size. The long fingers and pink cuticles, the pretty, well-formed knuckles. It even felt smooth and soft when they were...

Wait. Stop right there. He’s got to take his mind out of the gutter for a while.

But Yifan took his hand nevertheless, and caressed it like it was the prettiest hand he had ever seen all his life, and Junmyeon felt a little bit touched, somehow.

“You’ve never met me before. We’ve never even spoken to each other before these few days. I never realised about your existence until Yixing told me about the books you gave him, and the stories you told him about your days. You were a distant hyung to me... it’s not possible for you to like me. And you shouldn’t—you’re supposed to hate me with what happened to Yixi—” Yifan pulled him closer, and kissed him softly. There was a taste of himself from Yifan’s mouth, and Junmyeon couldn’t help but feeling extremely embarrassed about it.

“Blame it on Yixing.” Yifan deadpanned, breath lingered next to Junmyeon’s ear.

“What?” Junmyeon was confused.

“We’ve met once. You were borrowing his Little Mermaid book, and I greeted you when you’re on your way home. You were quiet and nice, and I couldn’t let you out of my mind. That might have been my first love, but I was too stupid to know it.” Junmyeon stared at him in disbelief, and Yifan shrugged. His didn’t let go of Junmyeon’s hand.

“And then, it was all Yixing’s fault. He told me stories about you—about this boy whom he was so comfortable with. This boy, who loved books and fairy tales; who thought that he could go invisible if he stayed quiet enough and still enough, so that he wouldn’t get in anyone’s way.” He paused, and let his other hand roamed on Junmyeon’s face, feeling his skin with his fingertips and playing with his damp hair like he was so precious.

“And then we grew up, and he didn’t just tell me stories of you; he let me imagined about you. He described about your pouts like you were living next to me, and then I would spend my nights bringing you into existence inside my mirror, wondering why it’s you on my mind and not the girls that I was interested in at school. I tried hard to forget about you, but Yixing, that little bastard. He sent me pictures of you at the beach; wearing the red hoodie and showing off your pale skin. I hated you back then; I hated you so much because you made me feel weird.

We haven’t even spoken to each other and I was so smitten by you. It’s stupid, isn’t it?” Yifan finished, and Junmyeon might as well die of embarrassment right now.

“It’s unfair. It’s always felt unfair when I grew up thinking about you, but you’re over here, being loved and adored by Yixing. Not even a single thought about me. It’s very unfair.” He pouted and rested his head on Junmyeon’s shoulder. His hand felt warm and Junmyeon could feel the heat from his head dispersing through his hair into the cold air.

“...I feel like I should apologise, but I can’t see what did I do wrong here,” Junmyeon said truthfully, and Yifan giggled.

“That’s the thing; you didn’t. I can’t blame you for any of this feeling. And I should apologise for suddenly crashing into your life like this. I thought I should at least try to see you.”

“So... you kissed me, not because of Yixing, but because you wanted to?” Junmyeon tried his bait, and he could hear Yifan slowly gasped. Junmyeon didn’t like that.

“You kissed me because you wanted to, right? Not because you thought that Yixing was in love with me... or something. Right?” his questions turned desperate and he felt panic when Yifan was suddenly trying to breakout from his grip. This time, he was the one who didn’t let go.

“You can’t crash into my life and then feed me all these stories about your love for me without any explanation, Yifan. I need an answer.” Junmyeon pleaded, and fuck all the egos, he would still fucking plead anyways. Because Yifan should not come here after five years of Yixing’s absence and start to demand everything Junmyeon wasn’t aware of to be given to him just like that.

“I didn’t _thought_ that he was in love with you... it’s not a speculation.” Yifan said, suddenly his voice turned weak and defensive. Junmyeon let his hand go, and stood up. Yifan buried his hands into his thick hair, fisting them and if Junmyeon wasn’t there, Yifan might’ve even ripped them off of his scalp.

“What do you mean?”

“I _knew_ he was in love with you. He really was.”

Junmyeon suddenly laughed, hysterically, and it was a long laughter; almost a minute. He laughed until his stomach hurt, and his eyes were tearing up. He wiped them off with his hands, but strange. The tears wouldn’t stop, and so did the clenching inside his stomach.

“Yixing loved... _me_? He really did love me?”

“He did.” Yifan answered him, even though it was unnecessary. Junmyeon felt something inside his chest, and it wasn’t sadness. Wasn’t even anger.

“You said you like me; that you might even love me, and then you said that you’re also a messenger for my dead friend, who were in love... with me? Kris Wu Yifan, aren’t you a little fucked up?” Junmyeon asked rhetorically, and in the darkness, he could see Yifan physically flinched.

“Well, I don’t even understand myself to begin with.”

Junmyeon knew what he felt right then.

It was disappointment.

_But why?_


End file.
